


Ninety-Nine Percent Complete

by this_is_kelly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur loves merlin, Family, Gay family, HEA, Illness, M/M, Modern Royalty, Prince of wales - Freeform, Raising kids, Royalty AU, sassy gwen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28888509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_kelly/pseuds/this_is_kelly
Summary: When Merlin meets the Prince of Wales at a charity event, he never expects for his life to change completely.  It's an interesting thing, being in love with an actual royal, and when the secret gets out, they have to decide what to do next: Should they defy the crown and continue their relationship?A modern Royalty AU where Arthur is the Prince of Wales.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 227





	Ninety-Nine Percent Complete

**Ninety-Nine Percent Complete**

***

**TODAY**

There are twelve four-year-olds running around their back garden. There’s a bouncy house shaped like a castle, which Arthur finds amusing considering he grew up in a palace. The French doors to the back are open wide and he leans against the doorframe as he looks out. His eyes scan through the backyard until he finds Merlin. They lock gazes and the corner of Merlin’s mouth curls up, just slightly, and he winks effortlessly before turning his attention back to the two mums in front of him.

It doesn’t take long before Merlin’s eyes start to glaze over and Arthur pushes himself away from the door and walks across the stone walkway that leads through several rows of flowers before opening up into a large field of bright green grass. 

“Excuse me,” Arthur says. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to steal my husband for a moment.”

“Of course, sir! It was lovely chatting with you.”

Merlin smiles. “Likewise, Madge.” 

Arthur leads him away, a hand on Merlin’s lower back guiding him. They walk across the grass and to the gate in the very back that surrounds the pool. Arthur leans against it and takes Merlin’s hand.

“You stole me away from some of the preschool mums.”

“You look heartbroken about it.”

Merlin laughs. “They kept droning on and on about school politics. It’s a private school for three- and four-year-olds. How hard can it be? They don’t think the curriculum is challenging enough.”

“You disagree?”

“I think Bea is four and I don’t really care if she can’t color inside the lines yet.” Merlin scans the back garden until he sees Beatrix running around with two of her friends from school and a very-pregnant Gwen in the middle of them tossing pink and turquoise balloons about. 

“That’s the spirit,” Arthur jokes. In a more somber tone he adds, “Do you think she’ll ever be angry that she can’t be a princess?”

“You’re a Duke,” Merlin says dryly, “she’ll be fine.” He steps in front of Arthur and smooths his collar. “You look good today. Did Gwen make you wear this?” He tugs the handkerchief out of the pocket of Arthur’s blazer. It’s white with pink unicorns all over it.

“Yes.”

“Fitting for our unicorn-themed party.”

“Whatever Bea wants,” says Arthur.

Merlin shoves the handkerchief back. “I love you, you know. Do you want to go jump in the bouncy castle?”

“Did Leon collect all the mobiles?”

“Yes, don’t worry, no one will take any illegal photographs of you jumping at your own daughter’s birthday party.”

“Right,” Arthur says, feeling slightly foolish. “Well, then, I guess we better go grab Bea and jump!”

***

**EIGHT YEARS AGO**

Merlin flips through the paperwork. He tries to read all of it – and there’s a _lot_ – because knowing him he’d inadvertently break one of these bullet points. He sighs, picks up a pen, and signs his name.

“There,” says Merlin. He pushes the papers across the desk towards Leon. “Are you, like, the family attorney or something?”

“No, that would be him.” Leon points to the bloke sitting next to him in the other spare chair. “I’m on the security team. I need to check out the space where this party is going to be held.”

“Ball,” Merlin corrects.

“Come again?”

“It’s a ball. The girl, Madeleine Deveraux, wished for a ball.”

“I see,” Leon says, then he pauses. “No, I don’t see. I was only told to come check out a space for a party that the Prince is supposedly attending.”

Merlin sighs. “I work for Wishes Do Come True, which is where you are now. It’s a non-profit that takes wishes from kids with chronic or terminal illnesses and makes them, well, come true. Madeleine Deveraux has anaplastic ependymoma which is a type of tumor in the brain. She cannot have it fully removed. Her wish was to be Cinderella and go to a ball with a real life Prince Charming.”

“Oh my god,” says Leon. He looks horrified.

“My job is to plan the wishes. And by some stroke of luck, Prince Arthur actually agreed to attend.”

“Oh my god,” Leon says again. He sighs and rubs his eyes. “Please tell me the costumes will be screen accurate.”

“Of course. I’m very good at my job. Would you like to see the event space?”

“Before we do,” the Pendragon lawyer says, “let’s be clear on this nondisclosure agreement.”

Merlin nods. “Okay.”

“This means you cannot discuss anything about the event either before or after without first discussing with our own private publicist. This means you cannot take any photographs, whether or not you plan to distribute. You cannot have any photographs on your phone. Any emails, no matter the professional capacity, cannot be shared. Phone calls may not be recorded. You cannot repeat any conversations that you have. On the night of the event, only our approved photographers will be present and you will only have access to the photos that we deem appropriate.”

“I understand.”

“Furthermore, the NDA extends to any correspondence post-event. Such as, you want to send a thank you for his attendance and he responds. That can also not be disclosed.”

“You really take all the fun out of everything, don’t you?” When Merlin gets nothing but a stoic look in return, he stands up and motions for Leon to follow him to the event space on the other side of the building. The event isn’t for another three weeks, but apparently Leon needs to be able to see any weaknesses in the location. He also has to give him a list of everyone working the ball, including the caterers. He half-expects someone to tell him to fire his usual cook and servers.

When Leon and the lawyer leave, Merlin gets back to work. He has three other events for other kids he’s planning, not just this one. Although, if he’s honest with himself, there’s something about Madeleine that makes him work harder. As the event grows closer, he readies himself for his meeting with Arthur. They’re supposed to get together with Leon and go through every aspect of the ball, from beginning to end, the day before the ball. Arthur has agreed to be there for two hours on the actual day so they plan for the event to only last that long. 

Merlin has a list of all the employees and other guests that he’s had to hand over to Leon to vet. He had to tell two of the servers they couldn’t be a part of this, but no one from the security team would tell him why. 

When it’s time for their meeting, Merlin greets Leon and Arthur at the front door to his offices. He can’t remember proper etiquette and accidentally speaks first.

“Welcome, thank you so much for doing this.”

Arthur takes off his sunglasses. He’s wearing navy trousers and a button-up shirt that he has tucked in. Normally he sports a blazer or jacket, but today he doesn’t have one. He puts his sunglasses in his shirt pocket and looks at Merlin curiously. 

“Er,” says Merlin, “did I say something wrong?”

“Normally people wait for me to speak first. And they address me as, ‘Your Royal Highness.’”

“Right,” says Merlin. “I temporarily forgot you’re not a normal person.”

Arthur blinks but doesn’t say anything.

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Arthur interrupts.

“Your Highness,” Merlin begins again, “I’m gauche sometimes, I’m sure you’ve already guessed that—”

“Quite.”

“—but before you get too cross with me, can we please talk about the event? Don’t run away from it just because I sometimes talk about of my arse.”

“Sir,” Leon says.

Both Merlin and Arthur turn to look at him.

“You’re supposed to always address the Prince as His Royal Highness at the first exchange and as _sir_ thereafter.”

“Oh my god,” Merlin mutters under his breath.

“Shall we start over?” Leon asks.

“Do you really think I’d run away from an event like this just because you are unaware of proper etiquette?” Arthur asks. “You cannot possibly believe everything you read in _Hello_.”

“Starting again sounds _lovely_ ,” Merlin rushes. “Welcome, thank you for coming, Your Royal Highness.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Arthur says.

“Right this way, sir,” Merlin replies and leads the way inside the building. 

“Why does it look like a hotel in here?”

“Oh, because it was!” Merlin gushes. “It was built in 1898, so it has so much Victorian charm. It has a kitchen and two ballrooms and there were three rooms on the first floor that we use for offices. All the other rooms are actually through that corridor that goes to the building next door. They’re flats now.” Merlin pauses. “Sir.”

Arthur stops walking. “That door goes to residences?” he says to Leon.

“Already checked out and handled, sir.”

Arthur nods and looks back at Merlin. “Carry on.”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard about my charity. Wishes. We grant wishes to kids with illnesses. Last year we had a fundraisers and were able to purchase this portion of the building so we could have access to the ballrooms for certain events, just like this one. It’s been a godsend.”

Arthur looks at him.

“Sir,” Merlin quickly adds.

“What’s your job title?”

“We have a team that selects candidates. They have to have a doctor sign off that they are physically able to participate in their wishes and to sign off on the illness they have. Sometimes we have to reject wishes if they aren’t realistic. When everything checks out, the wishes come to me and I make them happen. Sir.”

“Stop calling me sir. You sound ridiculous.”

“Oh,” Merlin says, taken aback. “Sorry.”

“So you’re a fairy godmother?”

Merlin can’t tell if Arthur is being cheeky or an arsehole. He glances at Leon, hoping for some sort of clue, but Leon looks as stoic as ever.

“If that’s how you want to think of me, sure.”

Arthur smirks – fucking _smirks_ – and starts walking further into what used to be the lobby of the old hotel.

“If you, er, come this way, you can see the ballroom.”

Merlin leads them into the event space where they have already begun decorating. Along one wall tables are set up that will be covered in appetizers and desserts. Table clothes are already on the tables and everything is decorated in silver and pale blue with small decorative pumpkins everywhere.

“This looks like Disney exploded in here,” Arthur says. His face is scrunched up as though he smells something foul.

Merlin thinks he might just be offended. “You do realize Madeleine Devereux wanted be Cinderella. I created this to be as close to what I thought the ball from the movie would be like with some modern twists. That’s _literally_ why you’re here. She wanted her date to be a real Prince Charming.”

“How old is she?”

“Eleven.”

“And what’s wrong with her?”

“She has a brain tumor.”

“Anaplastic ependymoma,” says Arthur.

“Yes – why’d you ask me if you already knew?”

“Momentarily forgot. I read all the notes that you sent my publicist.” Arthur walks around the ballroom, looking at everything. A stage has been set up at one end and there are two chairs that have been turned into thrones. Arthur sits down in one of them. He wiggles a little bit as though trying to get comfortable. “I assume this is where I’ll be all night?”

Merlin walks over to the stage and looks up at him. “I’m hoping you’ll dance with her.”

“Oh right,” says Arthur. “The Cinderella thing.” He stands. “Leon, are you all set? I think I’ve seen enough.”

Leon nods but keeps quiet. Arthur walks off the stage and towards the door.

“Wait!” Merlin calls.

Arthur pauses but doesn’t turn around.

“I know I’m not as refined as the people I’m sure you usually associate with, but I do hope you take this seriously. I know the decorations and everything probably look like an amateur did it compared to the parties you usually attend, but my entire life is dedicated to giving kids something amazing. These kids have rotten lots in life, unfair lives. These wishes are supposed to give them hope and happiness when everything else sucks.” 

Arthur whispers something to Leon and starts walking towards the exit.

“We’ll be here tomorrow,” Leon says to Merlin. “Right on time.”

***

The next evening Merlin does everything he can to avoid Arthur. His best friend, Gwen, caters the event and all of her desserts are perfect. The frosting on the cupcakes shimmer and there is a pumpkin-flavored juice for all the kids. There’s a champagne fountain, which is actually sparkling grape juice, and everything looks straight out of a movie. At least, Merlin thinks so. 

He goes behind the scenes to check on Arthur. All the guests are here and it’s time to introduce him so he can have a dance with Madeleine. Arthur is sitting in a chair in one of the back offices, scrolling through his phone. He looks bored.

“Do you have everything you need?” Merlin asks. “Sir?”

Arthur glances up. “Yes. Is Madeleine here? I’d like to meet her before going out there.”

“Yes – yes, of course. Follow me, actually. She’s in my office. We set it up as a dressing room, but I think they’re finishing up her hair now … sir.”

Arthur stands. “You have someone doing her hair?”

“And makeup. Sir.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Merlin smirks. “Whatever you say, sir.”

“Somehow that word sounds dirty when it comes out of your mouth.”

Merlin feels the heat rise in his cheeks. “I didn’t mean—”

“Have a sense of humor, Marvin. I’m always surrounded by people who cannot take a joke.”

“ _Merlin_ ,” he corrects.

This time Arthur smirks. “I know.”

“Cheeky. Come on, then.” He adds an emphatic, “ _Sir_ ,” before walking out of the room. His own office is just down the corridor and Arthur follows with Leon three steps after him. The door is already open but Merlin knocks anyway. “Hi, Maddie, there’s someone who wants to meet you.”

Merlin stands out of the way for Arthur to enter the room. Everyone bows or curtsies except Madeleine. She looks awestruck. Her mother nudges her and whispers something in her ear. Madeleine steps forward and curtsies and then bursts into tears. Merlin wants to push Arthur out of the way so his abrasive personality doesn’t make the situation worse, but suddenly Arthur kneels down in front of her, in this office with its shabby leather chairs and secondhand wooden desk covered in scratches. She’s small, tiny even, so she’s just above his eye level as he crouches.

Merlin watches as Arthur takes hold of Madeleine’s hands and says, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” she hiccoughs.

“I promise I’m not scary. Are you excited for our dance?”

Madeleine nods. “Everyone will be looking at you,” she says, her voice quiet.

“Oh, I assure you, everyone will be looking at _you_ ,” Arthur argues. “Your dress and your hair.”

“It’s a wig.”

“No one will be able to tell,” he assures. “But I have a secret. Would you like to know it?”

She nods.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

She nods again. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“All right.” He pretends to glance all around before leaning a bit in. “I actually can’t dance. I never went to lessons, so you’ll have to show me.”

“I’ve been practicing with my dad on his weekends,” she says, suddenly smiling.

“Good, that’s such a relief. Also, my father _hates_ it when I eat too many sweets, but he’s not here tonight so you’ll have to steal me some extra cupcakes. I saw them in the kitchens and they look delicious.”

“I can do that.”

“Great! Are you ready to go out there?”

Madeleine nods. “I have to put on my shoes and then I am.”

“I’ll wait for you in the corridor. I think they have to announce our entrance.”

Merlin is speechless as Arthur stands and exits the room. For a moment, the prince was a completely different person, humble with humility. The look on Madeleine’s face – it’s as though she truly believes everyone will be looking at her instead of Arthur. 

For the rest of the night Merlin cannot keep his eyes off Arthur. He’s dressed in his RAF uniform which only makes him look even more like a prince from a fairytale. Clearly he’s charming as everyone he speaks to looks mesmerized. He talks to Madeleine most of the evening, dances with her over and over, and even dances with her mum. When the two-hour timetable is up and Madeleine says she wants to dance some more, he obliges. 

“He’s so sexy,” a voice says in Merlin’s ear.

He whirls around. “Jesus, Gwen, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“You’ve been staring at him for almost an hour without blinking.”

“Not true. Your cupcakes are amazing, as usual.”

She grins and loops her arm through his. She rests her head on his shoulder and sighs. “It’s such a lovely party, but if I have to cater many more of these I’m going to need you to start covering my therapy bills.”

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“Watching kids who might be dying living out their dream? It’s the most depressingly lovely thing. I don’t know how you do it. Especially.”

Merlin leans his head against hers. “Right … especially … I don’t know either.”

“She’ll be okay, won’t she? Is there a high success rate for the type of tumor she has?”

Merlin doesn’t answer; he keeps watching the Prince of Wales dance with a little girl he just met. They stay like that for a few minutes before Gwen leaves to start cleaning up the kitchen and Merlin has to wrap up the party. Normally at this point in a Wish, he’s posted on their webpage and their Instagram. This time, the approved photographers leave with all the pictures; Merlin can’t even see them until they’re approved by Arthur’s publicist or some nonsense. No one was allowed a mobile phone either, which is why when he sees Arthur sitting on the throne next to Madeleine with a phone in his hand, he’s surprised.

He quickly crosses the room and jumps up on the stage. “Hey, er, before you go, can you take a picture of me and Maddie?”

Arthur raises his eyebrows.

“All your photographers are gone and I didn’t get a picture and, uh … sir? I’m sorry to ask.”

Arthur blinks slowly as though he can’t even with Merlin right now, but he nods and beckons Merlin over. He motions for Merlin to get between them and then takes a selfie of all three of them. The he stands and offers the throne to Merlin before taking a picture of just him and Madeleine. 

“Thank you,” Merlin says after standing and walking over to Arthur. “I guess you can have your publicist or whoever email those to me?”

“You’re funny. What’s your number?”

Merlin is taken aback but quickly tells him.

“I’ll make sure you get them. I’m going to say goodbye to Madeleine and then if I don’t leave Leon will certainly shoot me himself.”

“Right, of course.”

Arthur doesn’t move right away. He stands there looking at Merlin thoughtfully. “It was a really nice night, even if it was Disney-themed.”

There’s a glint in Arthur’s eye that Merlin doesn’t miss. “You’re definitely not this sassy when you do interviews with _Hello_.”

“I don’t believe anyone has ever called me sassy before. And I certainly have never done an interview with _Hello._ I don’t know quite know how I feel about that.”

“I’m sure you feel just fine, _sir_.”

Arthur grins and turns away. Merlin escapes the stage and goes back to his office before he can say anything else stupid and insane. When he’s certain the prince is gone, he goes back out to help clean up. It’s nearly two hours after the end of the party when he and Gwen go back home to the flat they share. They barely say goodnight to one another before they walk in to their separate rooms. Merlin kicks off his shoes and starts shucking off his clothes. He empties his pockets and throws his iPhone on his bed. When it bounces, he notices the unread message on his home screen. His fingers barely work as he opens up iMessage and reads. Attached are the two photos he asked Arthur to take along with this text:

**_Maybe: Arthur_ **

**This is Arthur, thank you for giving me**

**your number.**

**Here are the photos you wanted. They**

**turned out lovely. This is my personal**

**mobile. Keep it in case you ever need**

**help with any fundraising. I’d be glad**

**to offer a hand.**

**Also, you signed an NDA so you are quite**

**literally not allowed to share this with**

**anyone else without legal ramifications.**

Merlin reads through it at least twelve times. He finishes undressing and gets into bed, wondering how on earth to respond. If this was a different Arthur, a regular bloke who wasn’t a member of the bloody Royal Family, he’d give a flirty response. But this is Prince Arthur, the literal fucking Prince of Wales. Surely this text was meant friendly. Then why offer his personal mobile number? Merlin takes a deep breath and responds.

**I do take a charming picture,**

**don’t I? And don’t worry, I don’t**

**actually know anyone who’d be**

**interested in what you shared with**

**me, so your lawyers needn’t worry.**

**Sir.**

It’s only a moment later when his phone pings.

**Wow.**

Merlin blinks. Only one word? And that one word is _wow_? What kind of response is that? Oh god, Merlin thinks, he’s really blundered things up. Perhaps Arthur doesn’t appreciate his cheekiness as much as he originally thought. But then three dots appear at the bottom of his iMessage screen and he watches them and waits. They disappear momentarily before a new message pops up.

**First of all, I doubt all your pictures**

**are charming. You’re cute, but not**

**that cute. Second of all, knowing who**

**I am, I’m sure plenty of people you**

**know would be interested. Third of**

**all, you have a lot of nerve speaking to**

**me this way. Lastly, stop calling me**

**Sir.**

Merlin thinks he might just throw up. It seems like the most logical thing to do right now, much more logical than sending a shirtless selfie _in bed_ to the _goddamn Prince of Wales_. Oh, god, but he just did it. Except Arthur said he was cute, so this is definitely the logical choice.

**One, case in point, see attached.**

**Two, believe me, my friends and**

**I do not breathe the Royal Family,**

**no matter how fit any of their members**

**might be.**

**Three, I speak to most everyone**

**this way, so do not think you’re special.**

**Four, I will call you Sir until my**

**last dying breath.**

**You are very dramatic, did you know that?**

**But your selfie proved me wrong.**

Merlin is _definitely_ going to throw up.

***

**TODAY**

Arthur has his camera and snaps pictures of Bea playing party games with some of her friends from school. Merlin’s mum plays referee and all the little girls laugh and clap their hands. There’s a basket full of prizes in in Hunith’s hand that she gladly hands out to each winner. Arthur is glad that Hunith is here to share this with them.

Merlin enters the room, holding Charlie who is sucking on his two middle fingers. His eyes are huge and a little bit red.

“He looks like he needs a nap,” Arthur says.

“I tried. He didn’t want to so we came back out.”

“Here, I’ll trade you.” He hands Merlin the camera and he takes Charlie from him. “In a couple months, you’ll have your own party,” he says.

Charlie nestles his head into the crook of Arthur’s shoulder and yawns. Something twists in his chest and he kisses the top of his son’s head. These kids have definitely changed him in a way he wasn’t expecting. The kids were supposed to be for Merlin, because Merlin always wanted to be a dad. Arthur was just there to oblige, but something definitely changed when he saw that first ultrasound.

“She really doesn’t need any more sweets,” says Merlin, his voice low, as they both watch Bea lick on a lollipop.

“Good luck,” Arthur says with a snort.

Merlin rolls his eyes, then something in his face softens.

“Are you thinking about when you held her in hospital?”

“Don’t,” says Merlin. “I don’t like it when you read my mind.”

“You held her first and she was so tiny and she cried and cried and then promptly fell asleep mid-scream. And you fed her a bottle in that rocking chair. It was as though you were born to be a father.”

“If you don’t stop talking, I’ll cry. You know I will.”

“And then you said you would refuse to name her a royal name because she deserved to have a proper surname.”

Merlin whimpers.

“And then you chose Beatrix, not even realizing that was my great-grandmother’s name because you’re a peasant and have no class or sense of lineage.”

“After Potter! Peter Rabbit! I hate you.” Merlin wipes at his eyes. “I’m going to take pictures of our daughter playing with her friends.”

Arthur grabs him for a quick kiss before letting him walk away.

***

**EIGHT YEARS AGO**

The texts are a little more sporadic after that first night, but within two weeks Merlin realizes he sends (and receives) more messages to Arthur than anyone else. He’s in the middle of making spaghetti for him and Gwen when he finally has enough and presses call on his phone instead of responding to the incoming text.

“Yes?”

“Er, is that how you answer most of your phone calls? You don’t say hello?”

“I knew it was you,” Arthur says. “It says so on my caller ID. Why would I say ‘hello’ as though it’s a question if I know who’s on the other line?”

“Huh.” Merlin is stumped. “Well, I don’t know. Saying hello is proper, seems like.”

“All right. We can start over if you’d like. Shall I hang up so you can ring me back?”

“God, don’t be a dick about it.”

“Fascinating that you think you’re allowed to speak to me like that.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Let me try that one again. God, don’t be a dick about it, _sir_.”

Arthur sniggers and sighs. “Hold on for a tick.” 

Merlin hears some shuffling and then a door closing. 

“All right, how can I help you?”

“Now that I’ve called you, I don’t know. I was tired of texting you.”

“I see.”

“And then I was hoping that maybe instead of texting we could … I don’t know … hang out?”

There’s a long pause on the other end. Merlin pulls his phone away from his ear to make sure the line is still connected. Then he hears a loud sigh and he imagines Arthur rolling his eyes. 

“You seem to have forgotten who I am. Members of the Royal Family don’t really _hang out_. Where would you imagine we go? A pub? The theater?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. But, I guess, why not?”

“You’re joking, right?”

Merlin winces. He’s glad Arthur can’t see him. “I guess you’d be mobbed, wouldn’t you? You probably never go out in public.”

“Right,” says Arthur. “Well … is there a fundraiser coming up you might need help with?”

“Like to donate money to?”

Arthur groans. “No, that maybe a Royal could come be a guest. Or a volunteer. To quite literally help you.”

“Oh, sure. I mean, we do two large fundraisers a year. One is super fancy, black tie sort of thing, and the other is this fun carnival theme with games and stuff. All for our charity. I could use a celebrity to dunk in our dunk tank at the carnival.”

“I – are you comparing me to a _celebrity_? Like a common movie star?”

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s probably offensive to movie stars.”

Arthur scoffs. “You’re going to get executed one day. Off with your head kind of thing.”

“At least I’ll die young and pretty.”

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow and we can discuss this fundraiser?”

“Come over where?”

“To my house.”

“To your … oh.” Merlin realizes his tomato sauce is bubbling and he turns off the burner to the stovetop. “Like to Buckingham Palace?”

“That’s not where I live.”

“Really?” Merlin asks.

“My father lives there. I have a cottage on the grounds near Kensington.”

“A cottage. Kensington. Of course. Where’s Kensington? Near Buckingham, right?”

“On second thought, I’ll send Leon to pick you up. Send me your address.”

“Is that in his job description?”

“Of course not, he’ll be livid, he’s not a chauffeur.” Arthur takes a deep breath. “I needn’t remind you that no one can know about this, right?”

“Know about what?” Merlin asks. “I thought I was coming over to discuss the fundraiser.”

“Send me your address. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Arthur ends the call before Merlin can say goodbye. He stares at his phone. 

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks as she enters the kitchen. “You look weird.” She goes to the fridge and pulls out a carton of orange juice. She drinks straight from it.

“I think I have a date with Prince Arthur.”

Gwen snorts. “Bring plenty of condoms and lube,” she jokes.

Merlin looks up at her. He forgets how to blink. “I’m serious.”

“Have you gone mad?”

Merlin shakes his head. “Nope. We’ve maybe been texting? A little bit? Since the ball?”

Gwen slams the carton on the counter. “Shut your lying mouth.”

“I will not. It’s not lying.”

“Oh my god, oh my god. Are you _kidding_ me?”

Merlin shakes his head again. He can’t stop shaking it. “I suddenly lost my appetite. Gwen, I’m supposed to be getting picked up tomorrow to go over there. Oh my god, and I’m not even supposed to tell you because I signed one of those NDAs.”

“So did I for the fundraiser, don’t worry. They had someone come taste all my food and then I had to send samples for, supposedly, Arthur to taste and approve. I’m not supposed to talk about it. This is … unbelievable.” 

“All right, so I’m going to need you to help me choose what to wear.”

“What does it matter if it ends up on his bedroom floor anyway?”

“Oh my god.”

Gwen laughs and kisses Merlin’s cheek. “I’m sure you’ll stick your foot in your mouth and get sent straight back home. But I’ll still help you find something that makes you look amazing.” 

***

This time, Merlin is definitely going to throw up. Leon drops him off in front of the cottage. Merlin wants to laugh. A _cottage_ is quite the understatement. It’s grander than anything he’s ever seen in his life. He’s brought his laptop and some materials about the carnival. Part of him is still second-guessing everything. What if all the flirting through text was all made up in his head? What if Arthur really wants to be friends and really wants to talk about the fundraiser? This is ridiculous. Merlin clears his throat and knocks, but Arthur has already opened the door and he ends up smacking him in the chest.

“Did you just strike me?”

“Sorry,” Merlin says with a shrug. “It’s seriously on par, though, isn’t it?”

“Come on in.” 

Arthur steps aside so Merlin can enter. He looks around at the large front room. The kitchen is to one side, big and open and dark wood. There’s a large table with eight chairs around it that stands between the kitchen and the living area which has a plush sofa and tables with lamps. He’s pretty sure the television is hung over the fireplace, but it’s covered by two ornate cabinet doors. There are framed pieces of art everywhere but no photographs. 

“All right, let me have it.”

“Huh?”

“Surely you have an opinion on my house,” Arthur says. “You have an opinion on everything else.”

“It’s kind of exactly what I expected,” Merlin admits. “Unpersonalized.”

“That’s not a real word.”

“It sounds like one.”

“What do you mean by unpersonalized?”

“This seems like a very proper house for a prince.”

Arthur blinks slowly and Merlin is pretty sure he’s doing that instead of rolling them. “I am a prince,” he says slowly.

“Obvs,” says Merlin. “Let me guess, someone was hired to redecorate this place?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t pick anything out yourself.”

“I told them I like blue and I picked out all the artwork.”

“Artwork from your family’s personal collection, am I right?”

“Yes,” says Arthur, grinding his teeth.

Merlin shrugs. “Do you actually cook in that kitchen? I assume you’re going to feed me dinner while we talk about how many times people can dunk you in my dunk tank.”

“I do not cook, but I have some pre-made things that I can heat up.”

“You invited me over without any inclination of serving dinner?”

“Pardon me, but _you_ asked _me_ to, what was the term? ‘Hang out,’ was it? Only, I’m not the sort that’s able to go to a random pub and take shots off the stomachs of strangers so here we are.”

“The stomachs of strangers? What sort of pubs do you think I frequent? You lick _salt_ off the stomachs of strangers, Arthur. Then the tequila, then you take the limes out of their mouths. Get your facts straight.”

“Lasagna then?”

“Only if you have pinot noir.”

“Are you a sommelier now?”

Merlin pulls out a chair and sits at the table. He opens up his laptop. “Something like that,” he says. He clears his throat. “Now, what’s your calendar look like for the twelfth of July?”

Arthur grumbles some sort of response, but goes into the kitchen and opens up his fridge. He stops and then turns. “I’m suddenly struck by the notion that you’re a commoner and somehow I am finding myself preparing _you_ dinner. What sort of alternate reality am I in?”

“You’re not preparing anything. Some bloke who is probably paid with taxpayer money cooked you a bunch of shit and left you detailed instructions on reheating.” Merlin taps away at his laptop and does not look up. “If you need help finding the right buttons on that oven of yours, I can help. I live with a chef, I do that sort of stuff all the time.” When Arthur doesn’t say anything, Merlin looks up. “Oh, did I take that one too far? Are you sensitive about not being able to use the oven? Sir?”

“Remember what I said about ‘off with your head?’”

Merlin grins. When Arthur is finished, he sets a timer and comes around the other side of the counter and sits. He’s at the head of the table and Merlin just to his side, sort of sitting next to him but not quite. Merlin turns his laptop around and shows him photographs from the Wishes webpage about their carnival event last year.

“I don’t suppose you were being serious about attending the event,” he says. He knows he sounds very somber. “But I wanted to show you anyway.”

“Actually, I’d like to hear more about your job,” says Arthur, his tone no longer playful. “How long have you been doing it?”

“Seven years.”

“Wow. Why? How’d you get started?”

Merlin scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, you know, there was a job posting and I’d just finished school.”

“How old are you?” Arthur asks. “You don’t look old enough to have had a job for seven years after university.”

“I said school. Not university. I didn’t go.” Merlin clears his throat. Arthur looks rather stunned at that revelation and Merlin does not want to talk about it. “I’m twenty-five. This is the only job I’ve ever had.”

“Seems like an odd job for someone to jump into immediately.”

“It, er, holds a special place in my heart, you could say. Sick kids. But that’s really a conversation for a different day.”

Arthur seems to accept this and instead starts asking about the carnival. He asks about Merlin’s favorite Wishes and the kids and parents he still keeps in contact with. Merlin asks him about his time in the RAF and what he’s doing now that he’s been out for the last year. He asks him about what it was like going to boarding school and university and whether he watches _Game of Thrones_. Arthur gets the lasagna and hands Merlin the wine to pour; he’s not even a little bit surprised there’s a bottle of pinot noir in the cottage. They eat and Merlin keeps asking questions, mostly about what it was like growing up as a royal. 

“Okay, but what are you going to do with the rest of your life now that you’re no longer in the Air Force?”

Arthur pushes the leftover sauce around on his plate. “Whatever they tell me, I suppose. The family owns a lot of property, that’s where our personal money comes from, the money that doesn’t come from taxes. I’m sure I’ll be involved in that in some capacity. Otherwise, I really haven’t the faintest idea.”

“That’s not really an answer. That’s actually quite depressing. Don’t you have dreams? My job is to literally make wishes come true and I’ve read all kinds of things that people want. Nothing would surprise me.”

“I wanted to be a doctor.”

“That’s something! Actually, that’s amazing. What’s stopping you?”

“Not a lot of twenty-eight-year-olds going to medical school.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Not a lot of princes of England going to medical school,” Arthur amends.

“So then be the prince that does.”

“I have a degree already, but I didn’t finish the medical part, the clinicals and everything. I daresay I would have to take a few courses that I missed the first time around, but I wouldn’t be able to practice. Imagine if I was a surgeon and a patient died? The headlines would read, _Prince of Wales Kills Patient_.”

“Then go to medical school just to do it. Learn something. Go into research. Do Doctors Without Borders. Something bigger than yourself.”

“My father would argue running a country is bigger than myself.”

“The prime minister is running the country. Your father is a figurehead and while he’s still around, they don’t really need you.”

Arthur shrugs. “Perhaps. I don’t expect you to understand. You grew up with a normal life. You didn’t have to guess if friends at school liked you for you or because you were a royal.”

“That shows how little you know about me.”

Arthur shifts in his seat and takes a deep breath. “Then tell me. I kind of think I’d like to know all about you.”

Merlin swallows and finds his breath is a little shaky. “Why?”

Arthur puts his fork down and sips on his wine. “You intrigue me.”

“You fancy me,” Merlin jokes, but when his gaze meets Arthur’s he suddenly realizes this isn’t a joke at all. 

“I can’t fancy you,” says Arthur. “Protocol and tradition and decorum dictate that I mustn’t. Which means I don’t have much to offer. Certainly not dates in fancy restaurants or trips to the cinema. I can’t ride with you to the top of the Ferris wheel. If that is even something you might want.”

“I’m afraid of heights.”

Arthur smiles sadly as though he doesn’t believe that for a second.

“I’ve never fancied someone in secret,” Merlin says. “I have had exactly one other boyfriend. I’ve been single for almost two years now, but our relationship was in the open. My mum met him. He’d come to dinner. We went to a few clubs. Never fancy restaurants, though. I don’t even know what dating someone in secret would look like, honestly.”

“A lot of time spent at my house,” Arthur admits. “Maybe on the grounds and the gardens. People kind of recognize me wherever I go.”

“I’m assuming it’s a secret because of the gay thing, not because of the royal thing.” Arthur is quiet.

“You _are_ out, aren’t you? I mean, to yourself at least?”

“The people who matter to me know. Morgana. Leon. A couple friends from uni. My father, actually. The secret isn’t from them, but everyone else. The secret is kept from the rest of England.”

“I see. Well.” Merlin picks up his wine glass and downs the remainder of it, hoping to gain a bit more courage. “Okay, look, the thing is, I have no idea if I want to be a secret. You’re really fit and I kind of maybe fancy you a bit. Not a lot, just a bit. The royalty thing is bullshit. It’s fake. And I don’t think I can make a decision without seeing more of what’s behind this prince façade you have going on.”

“It’s not a façade.”

“You literally told me you wanted to go to medical school. That’s something real. Telling me a prince can’t go to medical school is bullshit.” Merlin folds his hands on top of the table. “Let’s be honest here. This will most likely end in disaster, especially since I’m nothing but a peasant. But I’m willing to _hang out_ a few more times and see if it’s worth continuing. And if I ever grow tired of being a secret, I’ll tell you.”

Arthur’s eyes study him and he nods very subtly. 

“Okay, but the biggest question of all is still floating out there.”

“What’s that?” Arthur asks.

“Are you going to do the dunk tank?”

***

Their evening gets cut short when Arthur’s mobile goes off and it’s his father. Leon drives Merlin back home and they talk about a podcast they both listen to about true crime. Before Merlin can shut the door to the car, Leon reminds him about the NDA he signed.

“No one would believe me anyway,” Merlin says.

Arthur doesn’t text or call him that night and Merlin has no idea if he should be the one to do it. There aren’t any editorials on how to secretly date gay royals in _Vogue_ and there isn’t exactly a Reddit thread on it either (Merlin checked). He doesn’t sleep well that night. He wonders if allowing himself to be kept a secret is really something healthy. Around three in the morning, Merlin screams internally and caves; he grabs his phone to text Arthur.

**You want to be a doctor and doctors**

**need empirical data to make decisions,**

**yes?**

**Of course. We should always thoroughly**

**research before coming to any conclusions.**

**But also: Why are you awake?**

**Because I can’t sleep. Obviously. Why**

**are you awake?**

**I just landed in France. A private airport**

**so I’m not entirely sure where I even**

**am.**

**My god. Why?**

**My great-aunt passed away. I’m fuzzy**

**on the details of why she was in France,**

**but apparently we will be here for a few**

**days before heading back.**

**Well shit. I’m sorry. That’s rather**

**terrible**

**It’s fine. We weren’t close. What’s this**

**research you want to do? For your**

**empirical data?**

**I can’t talk about that when I know**

**your aunt just died. It’s in bad taste.**

**To use your verbiage, isn’t LITERALLY**

**everything you say in bad taste?**

**Touché**

**Besides, I’m sure whatever nonsense you**

**have to say will help take my mind**

**off being in France. I’m not particularly**

**fond of French food.**

**It’s about what we talked about earlier.**

**About the secret.**

**Yes, I gathered that much.**

**I don’t know if I can truly be a part of this**

**without at least knowing if you’re a good**

**kisser.**

**I see.**

**And with that, I’ll need to collect data. A lot**

**of data. And perhaps different sorts of data.**

**How many different types of kissing**

**are there that you need to collect? I’m**

**familiar with the kind of kissing one**

**does with one’s mouth.**

**Oh, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. How little**

**imagination you must have**

**Oh god.**

**Of course we are talking about kissing with**

**one’s mouth, but it’s WHERE that mouth is**

**kissing is where gathering data is important.**

**One does not ONLY kiss on the mouth.**

**Honestly, mouths aren’t even in my top ten**

**of places I like to kiss.**

**Are you still there?**

**Sorry, I dropped my phone. Leon**

**was looking over my shoulder.**

**Look, I’d love to continue this**

**conversation about kissing in dirty**

**places, but I’m now on my way to**

**the hotel. I’ll ring you when I’m**

**back in London and we’ll figure out**

**how to start this research project**

**of yours.**

**All right, but if you’re dismissing me, you**

**could at least send me a shirtless selfie from**

**the hotel room. Since you have one of me**

**already and all. And I’m sure it’s**

**saved to your phone so you can pull it up**

**whenever you want to look at me**

**Goodnight, Merlin.**

Merlin falls asleep quickly after that and wakes up to a picture of Arthur in his hotel room, one arm behind his head like a pillow. His hair looks a little damp as though he just came from the shower. 

“Oh god,” Merlin says to himself, “what am I doing?” He saves the photo and opens it in his photo editor on his iPhone. He crops the picture so that only part of Arthur’s face is seen, that way if anyone ever catches him looking at it, they won’t know it’s the prince. 

Arthur doesn’t text him until the next night. They go back and forth and Merlin tries to keep it playful, but then he asks if Arthur can call him, he can hear the seriousness in his voice. He asks about his aunt, his family. He asks what France is like (he’s never been). He listens and is quiet and doesn’t make a single joke, even when Arthur really sets him up for one about the antique bidets in his hotel room.

The second night Arthur is gone goes much like the first, only this time Merlin risks it and calls him instead of waiting for an answer to his text. Arthur accepts the call with a, “I’m putting the phone down for the next three minutes, so just hold on.” Merlin listens to a bunch of people yelling in thick French, but his years of taking the language as a teenager have eluded him. Arthur tells him it was his father arguing with a Frenchman who was apparently his great-aunt’s lover. 

“It’s all very scandalous. Apparently my aunt had this wild affair with a man fifteen years younger than her for the last twenty years. Her husband knew about it and clearly didn’t care. I speak French fluently, but the way they were yelling, I missed a few of the finer details. Anyway, how are you?”

Merlin can tell Arthur is in a much better mood than last night, so he lets his sarcastic, playful side out. They talk for hours and only hang up when Arthur says his phone is about to die and he doesn’t have his charger so he has to go borrow one from Morgana in the adjoining room. Merlin says goodbye and stares at his phone for far too long before he buries himself under his blankets and tries to fall asleep.

It’s completely mad – all of it. He can’t possibly fancy the Prince. It’s absolute insanity. Part of him fears he only fancies him for the title, but then he remembers that all the things he likes about Arthur are the ones that have nothing to do with him being a prince. The things he finds annoying, those belong to the royal side of him. 

Gwen thinks Merlin must be going mad since the last three mornings he’s looked like the shell of Merlin, thick circles under his eyes and yawns in between every syllable. He wants to tell her he’s spent the better part of each of his nights speaking to Arthur on the phone and even though she knows he went over to his cottage, this still feels like it should be a secret.

On Wednesday night she has a rehearsal dinner she’s catering so she’s not home, which ends up being lucky for Merlin because when there’s a knock on his front door at six o’clock, he expects it’s the pizza delivery, not the Prince of Wales.

“Holy shit.” Merlin grabs the front of Arthur’s shirt and pulls him inside. “How are you here?”

“Leon brought me.”

“He’s a good bodyguard.”

“He’s on my security detail, not technically my bodyguard, but we’re friends. He dropped me off here and will come back when I text him.”

“Oh my god, is that even allowed?”

“Absolutely not. We sort of snuck away.”

“Seems like it’s dangerous for you to just be in some random bloke’s flat.”

Arthur shrugs. “My plane landed only a bit ago. I was supposed to go straight home, but we detoured. I wanted to expand on our conversation about empirical data.”

“You came straight here from the airport?”

“Yes.”

“Just to see me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh god.”

“What?” Arthur asks.

Merlin waves a hand. “Nothing, nothing. Just … butterflies. I’m not really used to them. Took me by surprise.”

Arthur’s expression softens and he steps closer. “That roommate of yours isn’t home, is she?”

“No. She’s out being a fancy cook at a fancy party.”

“Want to show me around your flat?”

Merlin nods. “This is the living room. That’s the kitchen. One big room as you can see.” Arthur takes another step closer. “And your bedroom is where?”

“Somewhere” – Merlin motions with his hand – “over there.” But then Arthur is kissing him. Arthur’s hands are cupping his jaw and their mouths slide against one another. Merlin fists Arthur’s shirt and tugs him closer. When one of Arthur’s hands goes to the back of Merlin’s head, Merlin starts to relax. It feels so good to kiss him. 

Arthur walks him backwards, towards his bedroom. Merlin pulls away, just slightly.

“If you think you’re getting lucky, think again. I’m not easy.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, all right,” Merlin admits, “I’m a little bit easy, but I also don’t have any condoms.”

Arthur’s mouth slowly curls up into a smile. “That’s quite all right. I wasn’t planning on fucking you tonight anyway. I’m not easy either.”

Merlin puts both his hands on Arthur’s chest and holds him back. “Hold up,” he says, “did His Royal Highness literally just use the word ‘fucking’? I’ve never heard you swear before.”

“I swear all the time.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. You swear enough for the both of us.”

Merlin nods, in full agreement. “Anyway, carry on with the kissing.”

Arthur laughs and kisses him again.

***

**TODAY**

Beatrix eats entirely too much birthday cake. Her mouth is stained purple and she’s currently running in circles around her little brother while their grandmother watches. Arthur says goodbye to all their guests and when he closes the door behind the last mum and preschooler, he leans against it and sighs.

Morgana walks up to him and offers him a hug. 

“You did really well,” she says softly. “You weren’t rude even once to any of those mums or their precious babies.”

“Ha ha,” Arthur says dryly. He pulls away and she immediately hands him a list.

“Of all the presents the mums dropped off for Birthday Charities. For your thank you notes.”

“Wonderful,” Arthur replies, taking the list. “Are you going to help clean up?”

“Oh,” says Morgana, her eyes wide, “no, no, I don’t do that.”

“Of course not.”

“He’s really turned you common.”

“I was always common,” Arthur replies.

“That’s right. I forgot you never let anyone clean your house for you. Such an odd thing when you could have someone do it for you.”

Arthur is about to reply when Bea runs up to him and throws her arms around his legs. He grips under her arms and pulls her up onto his hip. She pushes a bunch of blonde hair away from her face and says, “I think I lost a shoe.”

“Oh no!” gasps Morgana. “Not a shoe! A lady must never be seen without a pair of matching shoes.”

Bea giggles.

“Tell me, what was your favorite present?”

“I didn’t open any presents.”

“You did this morning! From your family.”

“Oh. Ummm. My bouncy castle.”

“That’s not a present, that’s going back tomorrow morning,” Arthur says.

“Umm.” Bea taps her finger against her chin as though in deep thought. “I liked my new doll house and I liked my ballet slippers.”

“That doll house is beautiful, isn’t it?” Morgana practically preens. “Do you want me to help you look for your shoe?”

Bea nods and reaches her arms towards Morgana. Arthur watches his sister carefully balance Bea on her hip while walking around in a pair of heels. He goes outside to help clean up. Gwen and her husband, Lance, have a rubbish bin they’re throwing paper cups and napkins in. Merlin is carefully popping the balloons and discarding those as well. Arthur remembers the first time Merlin watched him do his own dishes when he still lived at the cottage. He was so shocked that Arthur did all of his own cleaning. Strangely, it was something he and his father argued about a lot, but Arthur valued his privacy and that didn’t include having someone come and clean up his home twice a week.

“Where’s Charlie?” Merlin asks.

“Your mum has him. All the guests are finally gone.”

“Thank god.”

“Indeed.” Arthur picks up a balloon and pops it. He throws the purple latex into the rubbish bin. “You planned a good party. And you,” he says to Gwen, “made a delicious cake.”

Gwen grins. “Anything for Bea.”

“Thank you,” Arthur says. “Not for the cake, but, you know … for Bea.”

“You’ve thanked me plenty for that.”

“I’ll keep doing it, every birthday.”

“You should know by now that we do these things because we love you, both of you. Not because it’s some sort of royal duty. So you should really stop acting like you’re still shocked by these things.”

Arthur nods. “I know.”

Gwen shrugs. “I mean, you married my best friend. It was either love you or hate you and I don’t have the energy to hate anybody.”

Arthur tries to laugh, but it comes out short. “I love you, too,” he says instead.

“I know,” Gwen replies with a soft smile.

***

**SEVEN YEARS AGO**

Things with Arthur started out slow. Sort of. That night they first kissed was pretty innocent, more like a teenage snogging session than anything else. They continued to phone and text, but weren’t able to see one another except once a week or so. It was mostly due to Arthur’s incredibly busy schedule, but occasionally Merlin would have a Wish event that would overlap on Arthur’s only free day. Arthur did start taking part in some of the events with Merlin. He tried to stay as anonymous as possible, but it ended up being such good publicity for both the organization and Arthur himself that Arthur’s publicist asked him to start doing it more often.

Merlin didn’t mind. It was an excuse to be out with Arthur, to watch him interact with people who so clearly adored him, and pretend, for just a small moment, that they were a normal couple. He wasn’t as bothered about being a secret as he thought he might have been, but perhaps that was because Arthur didn’t outwardly lie about his existence. 

They’ve learned each other, both physically and emotionally. Merlin’s learned that Arthur likes when he gives him a hard time unless it’s about going to medical school; it’s the one subject Arthur avoids. He’s learned everything about Arthur’s body, where he likes to be touched, hard hard he likes to kiss. He knows about the oddly shaped birthmark on Arthur’s shoulder; he likes to trace it post-sex while they’re still catching their breaths. Merlin likes it when Arthur kisses the scar on his hip and make up stories on how he got it. And he knows Arthur only likes to be taken when he’s particularly angry or sad – there are times when he wants to be in control of nothing so he lets Merlin take over. It’s not Merlin’s usual role, but he knows it gives Arthur something different, something he needs, so he does it tenderly.

About six months in, Arthur is caught off guard by a reporter after going to a garden show with a couple of friends from uni, including a pretty young woman named Sophia. The reporter asks, “Is this your girlfriend?” to which Arthur replies with a brisk, “No.” When asked, “Are you seeing anyone in particular?” Arthur replies with, “Yes, someone very specific, please move out of my way.” Security gets them out before too many photographs are taken, but it’s all over the newspapers and tabloids the next day that Arthur has a girlfriend.

“Look at you in the picture,” Merlin says. He’s sitting on Arthur’s sofa, flipping through one of the many copies of magazines that his publicist dropped off. “I can’t believe you told the paparazzi you were dating someone specific. They’re all speculating what that even means. Oh, god, look at how cross you look in this photo.” He turns the magazine around to show Arthur.

“What do you mean speculating?”

Merlin raises his eyebrows. “The tabloids, websites, everyone. Didn’t you read any of these?”

“Of course not. I don’t particularly care what’s written about me in those rags.”

“Buzzfeed made a list of possible girlfriends. They’ve gone back almost two years and posted photographs with captions of every girl you’ve ever been seen with who isn’t a direct relative. Although one of them may have been your second cousin.”

“That’s absurd.”

“I know! As though you’d ever date a cousin,” Merlin says gleefully. “Although, on a very honest note, I cannot believe you said that. Is your father furious?”

“Why are you so surprised? I’m seeing you. You’re a very specific person. I told the truth without thinking. Should I have lied?”

Merlin puts the magazine down in his lap. “Arthur, we’ve been doing this – whatever this is – for, like, six months, without defining any of it. So, yes, I’m surprised you’d give anyone a glimpse into your personal life when I’m honestly not sure where I even stand.”

Arthur drops onto the cushion next to Merlin. “I don’t think I follow. Define what?”

“Us.”

“In what capacity?”

“Oh my god,” Merlin groans. He hits Arthur with the magazine. “How are you so fucking daft and adorable at the same time? You basically told a reporter you had a girlfriend, but you’ve never even said if you want me to be your boyfriend.”

Arthur flinches. “Oh, is that something people have private discussions about? Usually relationships are disclosed publicly, you know how it is.”

“Us peasants don’t have publicists, so we have to have these conversations like normal people.”

“Oh.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Since we talk on the phone almost every day and I can’t speak for you, but I’m not fucking anyone else, I’d say you were my boyfriend. However, boyfriends do tend to sleep over at each other’s houses from time to time and we don’t do that.”

“Is it?”

“I know you know that’s a thing people do.”

“What else do boyfriends do?” Arthur asks.

“I’m so glad you asked! They snog all the time and have a lot of sex—”

“Check and check,” Arthur says.

“But they also take each other out on dates and even if they can’t be public dates, they find ways to make things datey.”

“Hmmm,” Arthur says, as though considering this.

“They also have sleepovers, like I said before, and they do this thing that’s really awkward and terrible but is just part of the deal. They introduce each other to their parents. But don’t worry, boyfriends only meet the parents when they’re in love, otherwise what’s the point?”

“I see.” Arthur plays with a lock of Merlin’s hair right above his ear. “Some of these things we should remedy. I have a flight at four o’clock in the morning, but I shall be back on Friday. Why don’t you pack a bag for the weekend and stay here? We’ll see if we grow tired of one another after forty-eight hours together.”

“Impossible,” Merlin says, “at least for you. I’m pretty great. Oh shit! But I have an event Saturday afternoon.”

“So then I’ll go with you. It’s not uncommon for me to volunteer at this point.”

“It’ll be short. It’s at the hotel. A girl wants to go to Space Camp so we’re presenting her with her tickets and everything. We have some space-themed food Gwen is going to make, but it’ll be kind of like a bon voyage party. I can come back here afterwards.”

Arthur agrees and they go back to his bedroom before Merlin has to leave for his own flat. That weekend, Arthur ends up going to the event to help serve and afterwards has Leon bring them to a restaurant he frequents. Gwen and her new boyfriend Lance come with them, to which Arthur argues will look perfectly normal since they all volunteer for Wishes. Merlin takes it, knowing it’ll probably be another six months before they can go out again.

Except it’s not another six months, it’s only another few weeks. Merlin is worried it may be a little reckless, especially if Arthur isn’t ready to come out to the public yet, but they go with Gwen and Arthur invites Morgana, who’s met Merlin about thirty times already at Arthur’s home. She clearly has no problem helping them continue their secret. But when they get back to Arthur’s cottage after dinner, Uther is in the living room, clearly waiting.

“Oh my god,” Merlin says. Okay, for sure, this is going to be the time he actually throws up. 

“Your publicist called me,” Uther says, looking directly at Arthur and ignoring Merlin. “Apparently photos were taken of you at a restaurant tonight. If I didn’t already know you, I’d ask where the girl is. You’ve been seen out in public with her twice.”

Arthur is quiet.

“Of course, you’ve also been seen with the boy twice as well. At what point do you think people are going to start putting the pieces together?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t be here for this,” Merlin mumbles. He takes a step towards Arthur’s bedroom.

“That’s the wrong way,” Uther booms.

Merlin freezes. “Wrong way to where?”

Uther’s eyes flash.

“Uh, sorry. I meant to say, ‘wrong way to where, _Your Majesty_?’”

“He’s not leaving,” Arthur says. “Father, this is Merlin.”

“I know who he is. Apparently there was a Buzzard article posted about twenty minutes ago concerning your friendship with him.”

“Buzzfeed,” Merlin corrects. Then, “Oh my god, I promise I’ll stop talking.” 

“We are in a relationship,” Arthur clarifies, keeping his eyes on Uther. “I am sure you know that already, too.”

“No, your security detail is too loyal. They wouldn’t tell me anything. You blur the lines of friendship with them.”

Merlin needs to remember to buy Leon something really nice.

“But you asked,” Arthur inquires.

“Of course I did,” Uther replies. “I am to assume this is not a one-night thing? Or is this like the last time?”

Merlin’s interest is piqued. He didn’t know there was ever a _last time_.

“Father,” Arthur says severely, like a warning.

“How am I supposed to know what the details are? The last time I caught a man in your bed, it was the son of an American diplomat that you happened to pull at an official dinner.”

Arthur growls somewhat dangerously but Merlin is incredibly amused. He is definitely filing this information away for later.

“This is not a one-night thing. I did not _pull_ Merlin at dinner tonight and I’m slightly disturbed that you are even using that verbiage.”

Uther glances at Merlin and then back at Arthur. “Since when?”

“Six or seven months ago.”

“That Cinderella party?”

“Yes.”

Uther nods and then puts his hands on his hips and hangs his head. Merlin is struck by how _normal_ the stance is. It’s the stance of someone coming to terms with something. It surprises him.

“All right,” says Uther, looking up. “This is not something that can leak out. We’ll need a meeting with security and the publicity team. No, not the whole team. Just your publicist, I think. I trust her. We need a different narrative for your friendship. Get ahead of it before people start gossiping that you’re in a homosexual relationship.”

“We _are_ in a homosexual relationship,” Arthur says. Merlin can hear the slight exasperation in his voice.

“No one else needs to know that. We can send you on a few dates—”

“I won’t lie,” says Arthur. “Create whatever narrative you want, but I personally will not lie.” He stands up a little straighter. “I will not go on any fake dates and I will not publicly speak about having a girlfriend. I’ll say ‘no comment’ or nothing at all, but I will not lie.” 

“We can talk about it more when your friend leaves,” Uther says.

“He’s not leaving,” replies Arthur. “I fully expect him to stay the night. If you want to set up a meeting for some time tomorrow, I’ll be more than happy to clear a space in my calendar. Otherwise, this conversation is over for now.”

Uther must sense the finality in Arthur’s words because he nods and lets himself out of the cottage. Arthur doesn’t move. He seems rooted in the spot. Merlin slowly approaches him and puts his hands on his shoulders.

“So I got to meet your dad,” he jokes.

Arthur’s eyes snap to Merlin’s. “This is where you have to decide if you’re in or you’re out.”

Merlin immediately senses how serious Arthur is right now. “What? What d’you mean?”

“My father is preplanning damage control. He has to assume that at some point someone is going to find out I am gay and that you and I are in a relationship. He wants to create a story that will make it seem as though I am straight. If you don’t want any part of it, I will understand.”

There’s something about Arthur’s tone of voice that sounds broken and hollow. Merlin wonders if he’s had to give this speech before.

“If I give up now, I’ll never get to torture you about being caught with an American diplomat and honestly, there’s at least another three months’ worth of material in that one story.”

The side of Arthur’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t smile.

“All right, look, here’s the thing.” Merlin takes a deep breath. “This whole dating a royal thing is really a rotten deal for me. Sure, I get to snog a prince, but I also have to share him with the literal world. I see magazine covers and I can’t ever buy one and tell people, ‘hey, this is my boyfriend, isn’t he fit?’ And when teenage girls yell _Prince Arthur, I love you_ when they see you across the street, I can’t yell the same thing.” He pauses. “Because I do. Very much.”

Arthur remains quiet, so Merlin clears his throat and continues.

“And so I’m willing to keep everything a secret. I don’t think I can do it forever, and maybe not walking away now is a mistake because it’ll only hurt worse if I have to do it later, but for now … I’m in.”

“You are the first person who I actually believe loves me for Arthur and not for the title. I have never had that before.”

Sometimes the things Arthur says break Merlin’s heart.

“I love you, too,” Arthur says.

The blood rushes to Merlin’s ears and he’s pretty sure he’s actually forgotten how breathing works. “I think right now you should take me to bed. I’m suddenly in a very giving mood.”

Arthur smirks and kisses Merlin all the way down to his bedroom.

***

Merlin thought declarations of love would make it easier, but if anything, it makes it harder. Uther is relentless in trying to convince Arthur into finding a beard. Although the time Merlin uses that word, Uther turns a rather bright shade of red and Merlin excuses himself from the room. Arthur argues against it, but not as hard as Merlin thought he would, and doesn’t comment when one of Morgana’s friends from boarding school to post a picture of him on her Instagram. It’s all very scandalous and she has to take it immediately down, but not before hundreds of thousands of people grabbed screen shots of both the photo and the caption. 

_Love any time I get to spend with my BFF’s handsome brother._

_#princearthur #beautiful_

She doesn’t mind the backlash from the crown since it earned her over five thousand new followers within four hours. Arthur is in a dark mood for an entire day after it happens. Merlin isn’t sure whether he actually knew about the post, but he likes to think that Arthur didn’t knowingly agree to it.

Merlin wants to talk to Arthur about their relationship. He doesn’t need to get married tomorrow and he’s not even sure he needs to get married at all, but he likes the idea that it’s an option. He wants it to be an option with Arthur, but if he’s allowing Morgana’s friends to post photos of him on social media, it may not be something he’s ready for. Arthur must know something is happening because he’s definitely different, almost resigned, which only drives Merlin even crazier. They go out in public, but try to limit it to only once or twice a month as to lessen the attention. Usually Gwen or Morgana accompanies them, which Merlin honestly doesn’t mind because it’s nice to leave the confines of Arthur’s house every once in a while.

“I have to look for flats,” Merlin tells Arthur over dinner at the cottage one night.

“Why, what’s going on?”

“Gwen and Lance are having a baby. Whoops and surprise all wrapped up into one.”

“Is she happy about it?”

Merlin shrugs. “I think so. She’s a little shocked. She and Lance haven’t been together that long, only a few months.”

“Then that’s great for her. I’ll have to send her a congratulatory message, if you think she would welcome it. I’m guessing that means Lance is moving into the flat you two currently share?”

“That’s the plan. His let is up in two months, but they won’t kick me out until they need my room for a nursery so I have a bit of time.” Merlin shrugs. “I wish you could go with me to look at flats.”

“I’m sure I could if you wanted. It’s not as though I would be moving in with you.”

“No, of course not,” Merlin says somewhat bitterly. “It might look as though you were, if anyone saw us shopping for flats.”

Arthur ignores that comment and asks, “Have you ever lived with anyone before?” instead.

Merlin nods. “Yes.”

“With Will?”

Merlin nods again. “Yes.”

“How come you never want to talk about him?”

“It’s painful, I guess,” Merlin admits. “We could talk about some of your exes if you’d like. Quid pro quo kind of thing.”

“My romantic history is rather short. I don’t really have ‘exes’ as you call them. No one has ever made it with me as long as you have.”

“Well … how about I tell you about Will and you can tell me about all the American diplomats you’ve been with.”

“All right. Mostly I’d like to know what’s so painful you haven’t ever been able to share with me.”

Merlin wipes his mouth with his napkin and drinks from his water glass. “Will and I met when we were fourteen – well he was fourteen and I was thirteen – at St Mary’s.”

“The hospital?”

“Yes. Oh, I feel like you’re gonna be so annoyed with me.” Merlin groans. “It’s just – it was never really a good time to bring up before now and I don’t like talking about it.”

Arthur blinks. “My father has a file on you. All sorts of research. He said I should look in it, that there were things I should know, but I never opened it. I thought if you didn’t want to tell me then I didn’t want to know. Is this the sort of thing he would have found out?”

“I don’t have any weird, dark secrets, so I’m going to assume, yeah. Probably. Yes, actually.”

Arthur leans back in his chair. “All right, then. Go on.”

Merlin clears his throat. “Will and I met at cancer services. We had chemotherapy together and then Will was a, uh, Wish kid. When he was seventeen. I had cancer in my hip and had to do a few rounds of chemo. Will was much sicker. Leukemia. His Wish was to go to Alcatraz prison. He was really into true crime. He wanted to be a lawyer. So we went, I got to go with him and his parents. They were divorced but went on the trip to be with him. Didn’t fight the whole time. I was sixteen. My hair had grown mostly back and I didn’t look too sick anymore, but Will almost couldn’t go. He was in remission by the time we were nineteen.”

“Were you with him that whole time?”

“Like as boyfriends? Sort of. I fancied him when I was thirteen. He was the first guy I ever slept with. Not when I was that young, that happened a lot later. We were both too sick for a while to really have a go at anything, so some of that time it was more like we were best mates, as close as brothers, only not in a creepy way.” Merlin looks past Arthur, not wanting to meet his gaze, and tugs on his lip as he thinks. “We broke up once,” he continues, “when I was twenty. For about two years. I dated around a bit. We stayed in contact. Got back together. His cancer came back when he was twenty-two. He moved into my flat. And I basically took care of him until he died.”

Merlin looks back at Arthur.

“You asked me once why I got the job at Wishes. I saw the value in it. I was eighteen. Gwen was a volunteer and that’s how we met. We all thought Will was going to die when we were still teenagers. It’s a weird thing to give someone a Wish, you know? It’s like you’re giving them a bit of hope, but you’re also giving them something that will make them happy right before they die. Of course, not all the Wish kids die, but some do. Some aren’t going to make it.

“Watching someone die is a weird thing,” Merlin continues. “It changes you. You know it’s happening. You’re literally watching it happen, only instead of something that happens instantly, it takes a while. It wasn’t the first time he came out of remission. He was sick when he was seven. Then again at eleven. Fourteen. And then twenty-two. He didn’t want to be a burden and I felt so guilty. I’d been sick, too, but then I was better. I had a job and I could eat without throwing everything back up. It wasn’t fair that I got well and never did.”

“When did he die?”

“Three years ago now. He just … didn’t wake up one morning.” Merlin swallows and takes a shaky breath. “He had gone sometime in the night and I didn’t even wake up. I didn’t know. He wasn’t cold yet, but his skin didn’t feel normal. I had to call his mum. I couldn’t stay in the flat. I couldn’t deal with it. Gwen came to get me and let me stay with her. I was there for probably a month before she went back over with me to pack up all my things and to go through Will’s. His mum came and helped. There was this finality in putting his things in boxes that I didn’t even feel at the funeral. Like, maybe it was all joke and he was hiding somewhere, waiting to yell surprise, but when I packed up all his Harry Potter books, I knew it was real and he wasn’t coming back.”

“You sound like you loved him.”

Merlin nods. “I did. I do. I don’t think when someone dies you ever stop being in love with them. But things change. And I carry around a lot of guilt with it, which is why I don’t like to talk about it.”

“What kind of guilt?”

“A little bit of survivor’s guilt, I think, because I’m still here and he’s not. But, er, mostly guilt that I’ve moved on. And if I think about it … I have a lot of guilt … about the way I feel … about you.” Merlin struggles to get all the words out. “Not because I’m being disloyal or anything. He’s gone and I’m living my life, but guilt because that last year of his life, I told him I loved him every day and I wasn’t lying or anything, except when I look at you … I realize what I feel for you is much more intense and real than what I thought I felt for him. It feels like maybe I was lying to him a little bit and if there’s a heaven or a great beyond and he’s watching me right now, then he knows I probably didn’t love him as I should.”

“That is quite a lot of pressure you put on yourself.”

Merlin nods and shrugs.

“You took care of him as he was dying. Not everyone would do that.”

“I guess.”

“It’s because you are good. I tell you that, but you brush it off. You are _good_. I assume the scar on your hip wasn’t from a wrestling match with a rabid sloth?”

“Sadly, no. I wish it was some kinda fantastic adventure scar, but it’s just. Not.”

“I’d say going through surgery and chemo at thirteen is quite an adventure.”

Merlin considers this, but it’s not really an adventure he’d wish on his worst enemy – if he had any enemies. “At some point during chemo I wondered if I was gonna die,” he says, his voice low. “You think about it a lot. Like, what it might be like to let go. And then you think a lot about how everyone will be after you’re gone. What would my mum do? My friends? Will’s favorite thing was cranberry juice and watching the sunset. We’d go onto the roof sometimes of our flat. On his birthday I always do that. Drink a cranberry juice for him and watch the sun. Gwen sits with me usually. We don’t even like cranberry juice, but I keep thinking that if I skip a year, that’s when we’ll all start forgetting about him and that’s unfair. I wouldn’t want anyone to ever forget because then he would truly be gone.”

Arthur gets up and kneels next to Merlin. He takes both his hands. “We’ve been doing this almost a year and you’ve never told me this.”

“It’s such a heavy story to tell.”

“You’re always so lively and sardonic and you keep me on my toes. You have this energy about you. I’d never expect that you carried this around with you all this time.”

“I’ve always been this way. Humor is what gets you through chemotherapy.”

“And you haven’t been sick since?”

“No, and you can’t freak out any time I get the sniffles. That’s the other reason why I didn’t want to tell you. My mum – god – every time I sneeze she asks me if I’ve been to the doctor yet or had my yearly physical and it’s, like, I get that people are concerned for me, but I don’t want to be reminded that I was once sick. Gwen is good about it now, but when we first met she was very fussy any time I had a headache.”

Arthur nods. He looks as though he’s about to speak when Merlin’s mobile rings and cuts him off. Merlin picks it up and looks at the screen. 

“Oh, that’s odd. It’s Tulip Devereaux. Madeleine’s mum.”

“Answer it,” Arthur says. “I’ll clean up dinner.”

***

The funeral for Madeleine happens two days later. Uther tries to convince Arthur not to go and to make a statement containing his condolences instead. The argument is not a pretty one and Merlin wants to crawl into a hole and disappear. Instead, Arthur asks his father to leave and then asks Merlin to have Gwen and Lance meet them at his house so they can all drive together.

Merlin’s been to more funerals than he’s been to weddings or birthday parties. That’s a bit of the nature of working for a charity that grants wishes to kids with terminal illnesses. Madeleine is one of his Wish Kids who should have lived, so knowing she’s gone does weird things to his stomach.

Arthur doesn’t want to make a scene at the church. He wants to ensure everyone focuses on Madeleine and not the Prince of Wales, so he suggests they take seats near the back. When they first arrive, Merlin goes to Madeleine’s mum and they exchange an extra-long hug. He’s crying when he gets back to the pew and he sits between Gwen and Arthur. He wants to take Arthur’s hand or lean on his shoulder, but he can’t. Gwen is the one who puts her arm around him instead.

The ceremony is sweet but long. Merlin isn’t Catholic but he’s been to enough funeral masses to know exactly when to sit, stand, and kneel. When Madeleine’s best friend goes up to give a piece of the eulogy, she can’t get through it. Her voice sounds thick with grief and tears and when it finally breaks, her older brother takes her handwritten notes from her and reads them instead, his arm around her shoulders. Merlin can’t contain it. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, and presses his hands over his eyes. He can hear Gwen sniff next to him, but when arms go around his shoulders, he knows they belong to Arthur. The gesture might cost him a lot, which makes the tears fall even harder from Merlin’s eyes.

“It’s okay,” Arthur whispers in his ear. “Do you want to step out?”

Merlin nods and immediately gets up and escapes out the back door, Arthur’s steps right behind his. They’re alone in the narthex so when Arthur offers Merlin his arms, he gladly steps into the embrace. One of Arthur’s hands is on his back, the other in his hair, and Merlin rests his head against Arthur’s shoulder.

“When your publicist sent me all the approved photos, I made a photo album for Madeleine. Her mum told me it was her most favorite present ever. She took one of the pictures of you and her dancing and it’s framed on their wall. Said Madeleine was never happier. We talked about once a month, you know. Catching up on Madeleine. She was going to come to the next fundraiser as a guest.”

“She was special,” Arthur said. Merlin can hear a slight catch in his throat as though he’s trying not to cry. “I knew you spoke frequently to her mum. I think you probably talk to at least one Wish kid or parent every day, don’t you?”

“Maybe not _every_ day,” Merlin counters. He pulls back and Arthur lets go. “Thank you.”

Arthur doesn’t step away. He cups Merlin’s face and wipes under his eyes with this thumbs. He holds his jaw, looking into his eyes, for just a moment, before finally stepping back.

“Do you want to go back in?”

“Maybe we could stand in the back?” Merlin suggests. “I’ve been to a lot of funerals, but this one’s the hardest. I dunno why.”

Arthur takes Merlin’s elbow and leads them back into the church. They don’t stay for the reception, but head back to Arthur’s cottage instead. He invites Gwen and Lance inside and he heats up one of his prepared meals for everyone to eat. He pours wine for Merlin and Lance and offers Gwen sparkling water. When it gets late, Gwen asks if Merlin wants a ride back home, but Arthur declines for him.

It’s one of the rare nights they go to bed without having sex. Merlin doesn’t stay over every night of the week so when he does they tend to take full advantage. They settled under the blankets and watch some Netflix on Arthur’s iPad, and while Merlin feels exhausted, he doesn’t want to close his eyes. When his mobile pings for an incoming text, he almost doesn’t check it.

“It’s Gwen. She’s sent me a link.” Merlin clicks on it and waits for Safari to open. He bolts up in the bed. “Oh. My. Fucking. God.”

Arthur looks over Merlin’s shoulder and then jumps out of bed. He left his own mobile on the dining room table and when he comes back into the bedroom with it he says, “I have fourteen missed calls.”

“Are they all from your father?”

“Two are from my publicist, one from Morgana, and the rest my father. Six voicemails.” Arthur sits on the bed. “This isn’t quite how I imagined things going,” he says. “I—”

He’s interrupted by a knock on his door. No, more like a pounding.

“That’ll be Uther, then,” says Merlin. “I should probably find a shirt.”

“Stay here,” Arthur says. “Please.”

“I’d rather die than go out there where your father is.”

Arthur takes a deep breath and stands.

“You should probably put on a shirt as well,” Merlin suggests. “May not give your father the right message, you know, answering the door in your shorts.”

Arthur grabs a white undershirt out of one of his drawers and pulls it on as he walks out of the room. He pulls the door to, but it doesn’t shut all the way. Merlin jumps out of bed and runs to the door so he can listen.

“Arthur Phillip David Henry.”

“Oh boy, my full name.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that. You are of the _Pendragons_ and you let this – this – this _secret_ get out?”

“What secret?”

“Don’t play coy with me, son.”

Merlin moves slightly so he can try to see through the crack in the door. Uther pulls something up on his phone. 

“ _Bromance or Romance: You Decide_. That’s the headline. Did you read it?”

“No.”

“There are photographs of you embracing your friend at that funeral! They’re intimate. Anyone with any common sense will surely be able to see the two of you are more than friends. Why couldn’t you have listened to me? We could have given you a girlfriend and you and this Merlin fellow could have had all the time in the world. We had it all outlined for you. We would have given him a stipend so he wouldn’t have to work. He could have stayed here as your consort and no one would have known the difference. Outside these walls you could have had a normal life and done whatever you wanted in your own house. You did not have to take it public.”

“Nothing is public. That headline is speculation. And I’m not going to ask Merlin to hide and I’m not going to pretend I have a girlfriend just so the crown can sleep easier at night.”

“You need to call Katrina and come up with a statement that rectifies this and then you need to stop seeing Merlin until it all blows over.”

Arthur takes a step back. “No. I’ll ring Katrina, but I am not asking that of Merlin. If he wants to make that decision on his own, he can, but I will not ask it of him.”

“Why must you be so stubborn?”

“Why must you live in such fear? What’s the worst that could happen if England found out I was gay?”

Uther is quiet for a moment. “You know my stance on this. Fix it. I want to read a press release within the next couple of hours about how Merlin is a mate of yours from that charity you play around with. Call Katrina.”

When Merlin hears the door open and then close, he comes out of the bedroom.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Arthur says.

“Yeah,” Merlin agrees. “Did your father really say he’d pay to keep me a secret?”

“Yes. I thought you would have been insulted, which is why I never told you.”

“It _is_ insulting,” says Merlin. “But how much did he think I was worth?”

Arthur narrows his eyes.

“Obviously I wouldn’t have taken it, but I’d like to think I was worth a million pounds.”

“Merlin.”

Merlin sighs. “Sorry. Trying to lighten the mood with humor. So are you going to call Katrina?”

“As soon as I figure out what I want her to help me say.”

“Those photos from the church – some assmouth took those, but it’s still my fault. People are speculating about us because you tried to comfort me and—”

“I’m going to tell Katrina to answer the headline. I’m going to tell her to say it’s romance.”

“What?” Merlin is certain he’s suddenly lost his hearing. That couldn’t possibly be what Arthur just said.

“Unless you give me a really good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Arthur shakes his head. “No, that’s me saying this is the perfect time to come out. It’s not quite what I imagined, but I’ll only do it if you’re also ready for that.”

“What does you coming out have to do with me?”

“Everything,” Arthur says. “You’ll be followed by the paparazzi, at least until it all dies down. You’d have to have a security detail of some sort I’d imagine. Usually that doesn’t happen unless there’s an engagement, but this is a rather different situation than the family has ever been in. The press will dig into your life. Find all your saucy photos on Facebook.”

“I don’t have any saucy photos!” Merlin objects.

“This is every bit as much about you as it is me. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I knew the time was closing in where I would lose you because you wouldn’t want to be a secret any longer.” Arthur takes a deep breath. “I love you – actually, no. That’s not quite right. I’m _in_ love with you and I’m in this for the long haul. If you are as well then I’ll make that call to Katrina right now.”

“I don’t want you to come out only for me,” Merlin says. “This will ruin your relationship with your father.”

“I’m doing it for me as well. I do not want to live a life where half of me is hidden.”

Merlin nods. “All right,” he says. “Make the call. I like long-hauls.”

***

_A statement from the Prince of Wales._

_His Royal Highness Prince Arthur of Wales would like to address the printed speculations surrounding his relationship with Mr Merlin Emrys._

_His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales would like to officially acknowledge his relationship is of a homosexual and romantic nature. The relationship between His Royal Highness and Mr Emrys was formed over one year ago after they met at a charity event._

_At this time His Royal Highness and Mr Emrys ask for privacy and understanding._

_His Royal Highness also acknowledges there will be questions surrounding lineage and succession._

_Further details will be announced in due course._

***

**TODAY**

Charlie is passed out in Merlin’s lap. Bea is curled up on the other end of the sofa, under a pink and gold blanket while she watches a Mickey Mouse cartoon on Arthur’s iPad. Merlin’s mum is in her guestroom, changing out of the flower-print dress she wore to the party. Everything is finally quiet and calm. 

Arthur sits down next to Merlin and carefully touches the top of Charlie’s head. “He’s so sweet when he’s asleep.”

“Yeah, you’d never know he was a complete monster most of the time.”

Charlie is definitely an opinionated twenty-month-old.

“Did your sister finally leave? She didn’t say goodbye.”

“She’s out back,” Arthur says, “talking on her mobile to her fiancé.”

“Oh is that official now?”

“There isn’t a statement yet, but I think he asked and she accepted. He isn’t going to make her happy, but she has it in her head she must marry a royal.”

“I always kind of thought she’d end up with Leon.”

Arthur laughs. “She told him they had to stop their secret affair as soon as she put that engagement ring on.”

“…have they really stopped seeing each other?”

Arthur shrugs.

“How’s Leon taking it?” Merlin asks.

“I’m not sure. It’s probably difficult watching you and me knowing you are not from a royal family and then having my sister tell him she cannot be with him because he’s from the wrong family. Anyway, today was a great day. I wish my father could have been here, though.”

“He rarely leaves Buckingham, so …” Merlin shrugs. “One day maybe he’ll come around and surprise you.”

“Perhaps, although I won’t hold my breath.”

Hunith walks into the room and offers to give Charlie his bath. Once Merlin can move again, he stands and stretches. He takes Arthur’s hands and pulls him up.

“Let’s escape for a few minutes,” he suggests. “Gwen is finishing putting all the leftover food into containers for us to keep. She won’t miss us for another twenty minutes at least.”

Arthur knows what that means and lets Merlin pull him towards the staircase. They stop at the bottom step and Merlin presses his mouth to his and looping his fingers through his belt loops. It’s one moment away from turning dirty when there’s a loud knock at the door.

“That’s odd,” says Arthur, pulling away.

“It’s probably one of the security blokes,” Merlin suggest. “One of the preschool mums left her bag or something most likely.”

“I’ll meet you upstairs,” Arthur says and turns to go answer the door.

***

**SIX YEARS AGO**

Uther is infuriated about the press release. Mostly because he doesn’t think the crown’s official page should be used to spread gossip and rumors, even though Arthur reminds him that the truth could never be considered either of those things. Merlin stays at the cottage for two weeks because paparazzi have camped out in front of his flat and also in front of his office. Leon goes to the hotel to grab files and paperwork Merlin needs so he can work from Arthur’s.

Merlin doesn’t think he needs a security detail, especially since normally boyfriends and girlfriends of royals aren’t offered that until there’s an engagement. However this is the first time a prince has had a boyfriend and while most of England is being supportive, the reporters don’t make it easy on either of them.

Two weeks in the cottage turns to two months and when Merlin suggests going to find a flat, Arthur offers to have him stay.

“I want to,” Merlin admits, “but I can’t take advantage of taxpayer money. Can’t we find a place of our own to let? You can use your personal money and I’ll use mine.”

That idea infuriates Uther who would rather have them live separately, but Arthur declines and goes with Merlin to find a place. It ends up being one of their first truly epic fights. They’d had a few spats and disagreements before that, mostly because Merlin is so sarcastic and Arthur is so sensitive, but this time it’s something greater and really puts into perspective how different they are.

They end up compromising, but it takes them several weeks, and Arthur has to issue another press release ensuring that the people know taxpayer money isn’t funding their new home. It’s a townhouse, on the end of a row, and bigger than Merlin really wants, but he’s allowed Arthur to talk him into having an office at home to lessen the exposure of having to go to the old hotel every day for work.

“At least until people calm down,” he says. “One day they won’t find either of us nearly as interesting and things will normalize.”

Merlin somehow doubts this, but he powers through. 

Truly, the best part of no longer being a secret is getting to go to restaurants and movies and museums without having to invite other people. There’s no more hiding. Merlin starts to feel relaxed and very calm. His mum and uncle come to dinner once a month at the townhouse and while parts of it still feel surreal (Arthur is a prince, after all), it’s all beginning to be very, very normal. So when Uther shows up unexpectedly, Merlin immediately knows something is very much not right.

“Do come in,” Arthur says as Uther walks right past him and into the house. “This is the first time you’ve been here, isn’t it? Would you like a tour?”

“No. Where can we sit?”

“There’s a table in the kitchen or in the dining room. Take your pick.”

“The kitchen is more relaxed and I can make some tea,” Merlin offers. When Uther gives him a cold look, he backtracks. “Unless I’m not needed for this conversation, which I’m probably not.”

“Father actually prefers coffee over tea,” says Arthur. “Only a spot of cream.”

“I can do that,” Merlin says quickly and dashes off into the kitchen. He’s busy prepping the coffee maker when Arthur shows his father into the room. He keeps his eyes ahead of him, carefully grabbing coffee mugs from the cabinets. He usually has tea, but he’d rather have what Uther’s having to, hopefully, lessen the judgement.

“Have a seat,” Arthur says and motions towards the bar stools at the end of the kitchen counter.

Uther eyes it warily. “This looks very American.”

“It’s lovely,” Arthur says tightly. “I have a place to sit when Merlin cooks. Are you going to tell us why you’re here or will we have to play a guessing game?”

“Questions have come up that need answers.”

“All right.”

“Shall I assume that since you’re living together, you have discussed marriage?”

Merlin drops the sugar spoon on the floor. 

“You know I have to give permission for that to happen,” Uther says. “To be clear, I have not decided what I will say.”

“Why would you say no?” Arthur asks, obviously offended. “I’m _certain_ the issue has nothing to do with gender.”

“Gender and social status aside, I am here to reiterate what is expected of a prince and a … prince consort. I’m not sure what the appropriate title would be since we haven’t had same-sex marriage in the royal family. Regardless, there are a lot of things to take into consideration. Such as, Merlin, you would not be allowed to continue to work if you married into the family.”

“I can’t have a job?” Merlin asks. “At all?”

“No. Your job would be to the family. Traditionally, your job would also be to raise your children. Which leads me to my next question.”

“Father, these are things Merlin and I should be discussing with each other, not with you.”

“If I don’t bring them up, will you ever discuss them?” Uther clears his throat. “If you adopt, your children would have no claim to the throne. There is no precedence to using a surrogate, assuming the child would be yours, but they would also have no claim to the throne. Illegitimate children do not have rights of succession.”

“They wouldn’t be illegitimate,” Arthur says. “That’s insulting.”

Merlin’s brain is in overdrive. He and Arthur have barely touched on the subject of marriage and children, enough to know that’s quite possibly the direction they’re heading, but not enough to answer any of the questions Uther is asking.

“Are you really prepared to take over the throne from me one day, only to have to hand it over to your sister or one of her children?”

“Why are these questions coming up?” Arthur asks. “It seems premature, doesn’t it?”

Uther shakes his head. “Not at all. I think a marriage proposal should come with an abdication, so I hope you put plenty of thought into this before you ask for my permission.”

Arthur is quiet.

“Hold up,” says Merlin. “Are you saying that if Arthur doesn’t abdicate, you won’t let us get married? Like, that’s what’s between the lines here, isn’t it?”

“Hardly between the lines,” Arthur mutters. 

Merlin hands Uther his cup of coffee with more than a spot of cream because he’s feeling rather passive aggressive. “I’d never ask Arthur to abdicate,” Merlin says. “If we don’t marry, he doesn’t have to abdicate and I don’t have to quit my job.”

“It’s bad enough you are living together without being engaged or married. You cannot bring someone into the palace if you are unmarried when you take over the throne.”

Arthur doesn’t seem to want to argue so he just nods and shrugs. “Understood,” he says.

“If someone were to abdicate, does that mean they can have a job?” Merlin asks.

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur says harshly.

“What? I’m being serious.”

“What sort of job do you imagine my son having?”

“Whatever he wants,” Merlin answers.

The room is silent and Merlin wonders if he’s just made Arthur really angry with him. Uther sips his coffee and Arthur crosses his arms and leans against the kitchen counter.

Since he’s already spoken out of turn, Merlin decides he has nothing to lose and says, “You know … if you got to know me, you might not hate me so much. I’m not as refined as I’m sure you’d like, but I’m not bad. I know you have a file on me. You can ask me whatever you want. It might help you feel better about me and Arthur together.”

“I have already read everything my security team put together.”

“Right, but that’s just words on paper.”

Arthur stares at his father as though daring him to ask something.

“Okay, I’ll start,” Merlin says with a weird sort of laugh. “So I’m sure there are things you didn’t like in my file. I’m assuming the major one was that I had cancer as a kid?”

Uther’s eyebrows knit together as though he’s about to choose his words very carefully. “That is a concern, yes. I would not want my son to become involved with someone who might become ill.”

“Any of us could become ill at any time,” Merlin counters.

“If you were to father any children, they would have a higher likelihood of childhood cancer.”

“You got me there,” says Merlin, “which might be arguable if I were a girl, but since I’m not, you don’t have to worry about Arthur impregnating me. What about it bothers you so much?” When Uther doesn’t answer, Merlin continues, “I guess it does make my job even more important to me, if you’re worried that I’ll never want to quit. Or are you more concerned with that Arthur isn’t the first man I’ve lived with? I’m not sure what else would be in my file that you didn’t like. Maybe that I didn’t go to university? I’m sure there’s a lot to choose from but none of them seem that terrible.” 

“There has always been a certain standard in romantic partnerships that you do not have. Yes, you are more likely to become ill, but you have no schooling and your past isn’t exctly unblemished. The people will come to think that any of them have a chance to become a royal, which is absolutely not the case. How can you help lead the people if you have no understanding of how being a member of the royal family works?”

“I don’t want to lead anybody,” Merlin says.

“That is the largest problem,” says Uther. “Any partner, regardless of gender, has to take on a certain role. No, you would never be in charge, but you would be a role model, a symbol. If you do not want it, how could you ever be with my son?”

Merlin swallows and looks away. He glances at Arthur who has a worried expression on his face.

“It does not sound as though you are ready for any sort of partnership with my son, romantic or otherwise. Until I am convinced you are, I will not give permission for you to marry.” Uther stands. “You know where to find me if you have anything you wish to discuss further.”

Merlin feels paralyzed. Arthur walks his father out, but Merlin has no idea what to say or do. When Arthur comes back into the room, he takes hold of Merlin’s hands and leads him into the other room and sits him down on the sofa.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur says. “About all of it.”

Merlin shakes his head. “No. Actually, don’t be. I don’t like the ultimatum of abdicating, that’s a bunch of shit, but he brought up a lot of things we need to talk about.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I don’t want to be a leader of anything. I’m no good in the spotlight. I’m fine with you wanting it, if you actually do want it, that is. I want to support you, but not if that means I have to be in the spotlight. I don’t think I can do that. The sidelines, yes. Spotlight, no.”

Arthur is quiet.

“I’d like to be a dad, though, I always have. I don’t think I’d want them in line for the throne. I see the pressure it puts on you. Kids should have a normal life.”

“We could never give anyone a normal life,” Arthur says, his voice so low it’s almost a whisper.

“Yeah, but if they’re not in the line of succession, then we could play by different rules.”

“But you’d want to get married? To me?” It’s such a vulnerable question.

“Yes. One day,” Merlin quickly adds, “when you’re ready to ask.”

“What about your job?”

“I could give it up,” Merlin admits, “if I could do something else. Like, I don’t know what prince consorts are allowed to do, but I’d have to do something. I can’t eat grapes all day while a servant fans me.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “As if you actually think that’s what happens in my day to day life.”

“But.”

“Ah, there it is. The infamous ‘but.’”

Merlin smirks. “But I see the value in fighting your father on all of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“This country has done a lot for gay rights. Marriage is now legal for one. We could do more. _You_ could do more. Stand up and let your father know that you want the throne one day and you’ll only do it with a man by your side. And if he refuses, tell the people why he won’t approve your marriage request.”

“Is that what you think I should do?”

“I can’t answer that for you. Do whatever it is you want to do. Whatever will make you happy. But I think if you abdicate, you should do it because _you_ want to, not because your father forces your hand. And I fully expect an application to medical school should you refuse the throne.”

Arthur sighs and it’s the sigh of someone who is caving – at least for now.

***

Over the next few months they don’t really speak about anything Uther said. Merlin knows this is something Arthur needs to decide for himself. When the day approaches for the anniversary of the Cinderella ball Merlin stays quiet. It’s sad because they lost Madeleine, but happy because it gave him a different glimpse of Arthur.

Arthur, however, remembers and takes him out to a nice dinner with some of their friends – which is interesting to phrase because while Gwen will always be Merlin’s, Lance and Arthur now have their own friendship, and even though Morgana is Arthur’s sister, she seems to be overly enthusiastic over anything Merlin-related. 

Back at home, they make love, which is actually a fairly accurate way to think about since Arthur seems to take great care of Merlin during it. After, he presses kisses onto his back, coaxing more small moans and shivers out of Merlin. He’s kissing the nape of Merlin’s neck, behind his ears, down his arm, into his open palm, and back up again.

“I think,” Arthur whispers into his skin, “we should get married.”

Merlin’s heart completely stops. He hopes Arthur knows CRP because he’s completely frozen. He slowly turns over onto his back and blinks several times, trying to right the room.

“Are you – is this – is this, like, the official question?”

Arthur bends down and kisses his mouth. “Yes,” he says against his lips. He pulls away but remains close. “It’s been two years and I think we are ready.”

Merlin nods. “Yeah. And you’ve thought about everything else? Did you get permission from the crown?”

“Three weeks ago.”

Merlin exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. So if you’ll have me, I’d like to make you mine. Officially, publicly.”

“And you’re telling me this while we’re both starkers.”

“I did notice that, yes.”

“Thank god you don’t have a hidden photographer for this.”

“Who says I don’t? And you’re ruining what’s supposed to be a romantic moment.”

Merlin grins. “You know I botch romantic gestures with humor.”

“Humor? Is that what we’re calling this?” Arthur nips at Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin laughs.

“Hey,” he says, cupping Arthur’s face in his hands and bringing him back to him. “I’d be honored to quit my job and be prince consort to you. The role you play for England is bigger than me. I don’t want to agree to anything without saying that.”

Arthur nods. “Thank you.”

“Okay, okay, I think you should ask me again. Properly.”

Arthur rolls his eyes playfully but says, “Will you marry me?”

“Hmmm,” Merlin says. “I may need to think about—”

Arthur reaches down and grabs the skin just above Merlin’s hips, right where he’s the most ticklish.

“Oh my god, okay – I take it back! I take it back!” He laughs and pushes Arthur’s hand away. “I don’t need to think about it, yes, yes!” Arthur stops trying to tickle him and Merlin immediately softens. “I love you,” he says, “and yes, I want to marry you.”

***

Two days later, Arthur does an interview with BBC News. He hasn’t told Merlin what it’s about except that he’s not allowed to be there; he has to wait until it airs. Merlin wants to be offended, but Arthur usually has good reasons for things like this so instead he agrees. Arthur says he won’t be home in time to watch it with Merlin, so he heads over to Gwen’s to watch the interview with her instead. It gives him the chance to hold the baby. He doesn’t like to admit just how much he loves the way Gwen’s daughter smells and how much her laugh makes him smile.

“It’s not laughter,” Gwen says, “it’s gas. Usually.”

“Gross.” Merlin side-eyes the baby in his lap. “Don’t poop on me.”

“She will,” Lance says, “don’t worry, Vivi is very selective of who she poops on. It means she likes you.”

Merlin narrows his eyes. “I can’t marry a prince if I’m covered in baby shit.”

Gwen picks up the remote off her coffee table and turns the television on. “I can’t remember the last time someone from the royal family did an in-person interview.”

“Uther did one once, twenty-five years ago,” Merlin says.

“Oh, I think I’ve seen that on YouTube,” says Lance. “Yeah, right after his wife died. Arthur’s mum.”

“He got engaged, like, six months later, and it was this big scandal. My mum was telling me about it. He was assuring the people he loved his first wife. Arthur says his almost-stepmum was a good friend of his dad’s. She offered companionship and he didn’t like to be alone.” Merlin shrugs.

“Shhh,” says Gwen, “it’s starting. When was this recorded?”

“This afternoon,” Merlin answers.

“And you really have no idea what it’s about?”

“I’m assuming the engagement,” Merlin guesses, “but I don’t – oh my god.”

“What?” Gwen asks, whipping her head towards him.

“Oh my god, I know what he’s going to say.”

“Well you’re gonna miss what he actually _does_ say if you two don’t shush,” Lance says.

They miss the introductions, but they clamp their mouths shut and turn towards the television.

“No, my father gave his permission for the marriage a few weeks ago,” Arthur says. “So we’re both very excited.”

“Will it be televised like the other royal weddings?” the news anchor, a man named John, asks.

“No, not at all.”

Gwen grabs hold of Merlin’s wrist. “Is that even allowed?”

“Shh!” Merlin says and pushes her hand away. “I don’t want to miss any of this.”

“We’ll pay for it ourselves, so there’s no need to worry about taxpayer money and weddings and such.”

“This is a historic moment in British history,” John says. “The first same-sex wedding for the royal family. Shouldn’t that be celebrated?”

“Yes, and we’ll release photos and the like, but Merlin and I are very private people. We will not have hundreds of guests.”

“I think you will make a lot of the people sad. Royal weddings have always been a tradition.”

“Yes, and when my sister gets engaged, hopefully she will have the large wedding.”

John skips to the next inquiry, “Getting married brings up the question of whether you will have children and if so, will you adopt?”

“I know we both want children, but I cannot say how that will come about.”

“How will you handle the line of succession if you have children? The rules have been set in place for hundreds of years.”

Arthur takes a deep breath.

“Oh my god,” Merlin mutters. He uses baby Vivi’s hands to cover his own eyes.

“It is with a great deal of reflection and self-actualization that I have come to the decision to abdicate. My father is still reigning king and my sister will become next in line to the throne.”

“Does Mr Emrys wish you to abdicate?”

“No,” Arthur says firmly. “He supports me in either decision. I think he might prefer me to stay, but I feel that while the traditions of the royal family need to change, I cannot use any future children as pawns in that game. I would rather the change happen because I have abdicated rather than them growing up knowing their father is king, but they cannot be next in line.”

“So if you abdicate, what will you do?”

Arthur gets a sly smile on his face. “Perhaps go back to school? I haven’t decided. I think I’d like to do something with either cancer research or cancer charities. It’s something that’s recently become dear to my heart.”

“Because of Mr Emrys’ charity work?”

“Something like that.”

***

Merlin barely shoves Vivi back into Gwen’s arms before racing back to the townhouse. Of course, his version of racing is extremely different now that Leon is assigned specifically to him until Merlin picks someone else out. He kind of wants to keep Leon, just to annoy Arthur. He waits for Leon to walk with him to the car and they drive back to the house. Merlin can hear the raised voices before Leon opens the front door for him.

“I can’t decide if you should stay for a while,” Merlin says, “in case we need an extra witness.”

“There is literally nowhere I’d rather be less than right here, listening to them rip each other’s heads off.”

“Ah, you sound like me,” Merlin says fondly.

“That’s because of all the idiots I’ve had to watch Arthur with, I like you best.”

“So sweet,” says Merlin. He squares his shoulders and walks further into the house.

“You made it sound as though you’re abdicating because you disagree with the crown,” Uther roars.

“That’s exactly why I’m abdicating.”

“You said it on air. On the BBC. You can’t take it back.”

“That was the exact point.”

“Hello,” Merlin says. “Lovely to see you again, Your Majesty.”

Uther looks older tonight, more gray. His suit is slightly wrinkled as though he’s been wearing it all day. “What do you think of his declaration? I suppose you’re happy about it.”

“I’m happy that Arthur reached this decision on his own. I didn’t sway him one way or another.”

Uther turns back to Arthur. “Your children will see that interview one day and they’ll hear you say you gave up the throne for them because the crown wouldn’t change for them to be in the line of succession.”

“Yes,” Arthur affirms. “I thought you wanted me to abdicate.”

“Of course not! You think I want your sister next in line? She’d try to make Prada and Versace part of the royal family if she could.”

“I’m impressed you know who they are, sir,” Merlin jokes.

“You are a true leader. You could do great things. But you gave it up.”

“Because you weren’t going to give me any other choice!”

“I was trying to give you a choice!” Uther yells. “You didn’t have to choose _him_. You could have still chosen a wife. Who cares who was on the side of your marriage so long as you were king and produced heirs.”

“I’m gay.”

“We would have told the people you were bi.”

Arthur blinks and shakes his head. “You still wanted me to lie? After all this time?”

“I wanted you on the throne.”

“Just not with Merlin by my side,” Arthur hints. “Why did you give permission then?”

“If I refused, you never would have taken the throne. This way you’d still be next in line.”

“And who would be next after me? Morgana? Her first born? While our children, what, watch their cousins be called prince and they be called nothing?”

Uther remains quiet.

“My life is not a game.”

“Your life is now yours. Congratulations. You now are free to do as you wish. I hope you enjoy your soon-to-be-husband and your pack of children with questionable parentage. I’ll see myself out, shall I?”

Merlin waits to see if Arthur is going to break the silence first, but all he does is sit on the sofa with his head in his hands. Merlin kneels in front of him.

“I thought you were brave today. Was the interview your idea?”

“It was Katrina’s. I told her if my father fired her, I’d keep her on as my own personal publicist. They were only allowed to ask certain questions. Only twice did he ask something off-script, but they weren’t anything major. She thought it would bring humanity to my decision and also shed light on some of the ‘bullshit of the crown’s traditions.’ Her words, not mine.”

“I’m sorry your father is kind of a shit.” 

Arthur just nods.

“We could have gotten married and not had kids,” Merlin says. “It would have gone to the next heir.”

Arthur drops his hands away from his face. “I’ve seen the way you look at Vivi. You deserve to look at your own children with that much love and adoration. I could never deny you that.”

“Oh god,” Merlin says. “Am I that obvious?”

Arthur nods.

“It’s past dinnertime. Did you eat? Do you want me to make you something?”

“No, I’d rather go to bed.”

“Of course.” 

“Take care of me tonight?” Arthur asks. His voice is so very small.

Merlin stands and kisses the top of his head. “Always,” he replies, and pulls Arthur to his feet.

***

**TODAY**

Arthur stares at his father. “What are you doing here?”

Uther straightens his shoulders. “I heard there was a birthday party, but I’m afraid I had a Chinese diplomat at the palace who overstayed his welcome. Is there cake?”

Arthur is speechless. 

“I can make coffee!” Merlin shouts from the middle of the stairs. He comes down and grabs hold of Uther’s arm and pulls him inside. “Come on in. You’ve never seen the house before. There’s a lovely back garden with a nice table. Why don’t you show your father, Arthur? And I’ll bring out coffee and cake.”

Arthur closes the front door behind Uther and sighs. Whatever this is, he’s suspicious. He knows he didn’t send his father an invitation to the party; why would he after he ignored all the other birthdays they’ve had for their children?

“I assume you’d like to speak with me before I see either of your children?”

Arthur grunts a response and leads his father towards the back garden. It’s a small space, but beautiful and he and Merlin enjoy dinner out here whenever the weather is nice. They like to share a bottle of wine and relish the quiet. Their neighbors are too far away to hear noise from them, but not so far that they can’t see the houses. Arthur watches as Uther looks around the gardens, the landscaped trees and fences and flowers, the stonework on the ground.

“This is lovely out here,” Uther says.

“Is it?” Arthur challenges.

“It suits who you are now. It’s a far cry from Kensington or Buckingham, but I doubt you were ever particularly happy there. Even when it came time to choose a home, you picked the smallest one.”

Arthur puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on the heels of his feet.

“Even now, you’re so informal.”

“Is that a problem?”

Uther shakes his head. “No. Not at all. You actually look quite … content.”

“I am,” says Arthur. He surprises himself at how quickly he answers. “I actually am very happy.”

“I assume you saw your sister today?”

“She was out here just a few moments ago,” Arthur says. “She was talking to her new fiancé on the phone. I assume you gave permission?”

“I did.”

“You should have said no. He doesn’t make her happy, but he’ll give you the ideal marriage you crave. He has royal blood, I hear.”

“She asked me not to terminate the body guard, but I reminded her that all your security is privately funded so his job is safe.”

“Ah, so you knew about that.”

Uther nods. “I did.”

“Did you come all the way here to talk about Morgana?”

“No, but if what I think is true about you and this house and your family, _you_ talking to her might could do some good.”

Arthur considers this. “Why?”

“Clearly stepping away from what is deemed socially appropriate for our station only made you happier. She wants the throne, God help England, but if she were to marry a commoner, I would give my blessing – a very specific commoner, mind you. One who knows etiquette and tradition.”

“I’ll pass the message along,” Arthur says. “Thank you for recognizing that I am happy here. I don’t know if I ever would have been if I’d stayed a member of the family.”

“You shall always be a member of the family. I believe we both lost sight of that the last few years.”

“Six years,” Arthur says. “It’s been almost six years.”

“I am aware.”

Arthur is torn between wanting to hug him and kick him out of his garden. Instead he points to the outside table and asks if he wants to sit. Hopefully Merlin will hurry up with that coffee so he can help referee whatever it is Uther really came by to talk about.

***

**FIVE YEARS AGO**

Merlin has absolutely zero interest in planning a wedding. He doesn’t even care what he wears. The only thing he wants to have control over is the guestlist. It’s a weeklong conversation over who is deemed important enough to invite. Normally these royal affairs attract hundreds of guests, including foreign dignitaries, but considering Arthur has abdicated, Merlin doesn’t see the point. It ends up being a handful of invitations. Gwen and Lance and baby Vivi. Hunith and Merlin’s uncle Gaius. Leon. Morgana, of course. And Uther. Leon will serve as Arthur’s best man while Gwen will stand with Merlin.

Except Uther doesn’t come.

Merlin pulls Morgana aside to ask her, “What the fuck?”

“You have kept it all so secretive. There’s no paparazzi because no one knows it’s happening. Unless you come out and tell anyone that he didn’t come, the people will never know.”

“I don’t understand. Is this because of the interview?”

“You should probably read more,” Morgana says. “All the headlines bashed our father for not being accepting. They spun what Arthur said to make it seem like Dad is the worst.”

“He literally said he wanted Arthur to marry a woman and keep me as a sidepiece.”

“It’s fear. He tried calling Arthur, but he said Arthur ignored all his calls.”

This is news to Merlin. But they still get married, only a few months after the engagement, and go on what is technically a honeymoon, although Merlin calls it his Tour. The only time he’s ever left England was the one trip to San Francisco. He lets Arthur choose all the best places around the world to visit and they leave for an entire month. 

When they return, very much relaxed and fucked-out, Arthur becomes a student again. Merlin expects it to be a lot of late nights studying and lonely dinners while Arthur did schoolwork, but it ends up being rather okay. There is a lot of studying, more than Merlin could have ever imagined, but they find a companionable routine where Arthur pours over his books at the kitchen counter while Merlin cooks, they eat together, and then Merlin either reads or watches Netflix on his laptop on one end of the sofa while Arthur highlights things in his textbooks on the other end. Rarely do they ever go to bed separately.

Merlin starts to wonder if he shouldn’t look for another job. Or maybe go to university himself. He’s actually not sure.

“Why? Where’s this coming from?” Arthur asks over dinner.

“My job seems so simple. Like, I should be doing something better. You’re an ex-prince, after all.”

“I’m still a duke, you know. Duke of Camelot.”

“I didn’t realize you got to keep your duke name.”

“Dukedom,” says Arthur.

“Is that a real word?”

“Members of the royal family are given a dukedom upon marriage. Mine was always to be Camelot. Morgana will become Duchess of Avalon.”

“Dukedom sounds made-up.”

“Drink your wine, you are not drunk enough.”

Merlin grins. “Whatever you say, sir.”

“Okay, but you shouldn’t give up your job. Do you want more responsibility? Perhaps you could try for a promotion?”

“I like granting the Wishes.”

“If you want to do something _more_ , we could always talk about you starting your own charity, if you had an idea of something you wanted to do.”

“That seems like a lot of work. And money.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows.

“Right, right. What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is begrudgingly mine as well.”

“I like you here, though,” Arthur admits. “I like that I am so busy with uni, but whenever I come home, you’re here. If you want to do something else, brilliant, I shall help you, but there’s value in cooking dinner and creating a home for us.”

“I’m neither a housewife nor a princess.”

“You would be a duchess since I suppose I am no longer a prince.”

“Oh,” says Merlin, feigning disappointment. “Duchess isn’t nearly as glamorous as princess. Are you going to eat the rest of your potatoes?” He reaches his fork over and spears a roasted red potato and then promptly stuffs it in his mouth.

“Have you considered staying home if we have children?”

Merlin scrunches up his face. “I thought I just said I wasn’t a housewife.”

Arthur puts his fork down and wipes the corners of his mouth with his napkin – cloth napkin at that. Merlin has never done so much bloody laundry in his life.

“I was raised by a nanny. Even if my mother hadn’t died, we would have had one, although I suspect my mum would have been more hands-on than my father ever was.”

“He was heartbroken,” says Merlin. 

“Morgana reminded him of her. And I think he may have blamed her for it, the death I mean. Anyway. Luckily you cannot die during childbirth, but the question still remains of who you want raising our children.”

“We’ve been married six months.”

“I am not in any rush.”

“You’re kind of old,” says Merlin. He counts on his fingers. “Oh my god, you’re over thirty now! Definitely not getting any younger.”

“You’re fairly close to thirty yourself.”

“I’ll always be younger than you,” says Merlin. “I’ll always be the younger man. Wait. I have a question. If we have kids … will they have a last name? I mean, technically, you don’t have one.”

“Well, it would be Pendragon since I was born into the royal house of Pendragon. No one gives their children last names unless they do not have a title.”

“So our children would have a last name?”

“Yes, if we choose for them to. Arthur Phillip David Henry Pendragon is quite the mouthful, but we all tend to have three or four names without the last name. Morgana is officially Morgana Louisa Penelope May. My father is Uther Cornelius Charles. My mother was Ygraine Catherine Rose.”

“That’s too much. So do you have a last name now? Like officially?”

“I mean, I suppose.”

“If we have kids we should all have the same last name. But, like, if I need to call one of them by their full name I’m not gonna yell Batina Melinda Esmerelda Hermione Emrys-Pendragon up the stairs.”

“My god, please tell me you’re joking.”

“About the hyphenated last name? Yes.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I only brought it up in case staying home sways your thoughts on what you want to do with your career. We can dissect your choice in first names some other time.”

“What if I want to work and have kids both?”

“We hire a nanny.”

“I don’t know if I like that idea either. My mum lived with her brother for years. They both took care of me. I liked it. What would you want me to do?”

Arthur looks as though he’s choosing his words carefully. “I grew up wondering why my father didn’t want to be around me. I don’t think our children would think that, even if we had a nanny, but there is something very calm and normal about the notion of children being raised by us and no one else.”

Merlin nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah.”

It’s overwhelming that Arthur has put this much thought into their future family. Merlin doesn’t even know how they would go about having children. Adoption or surrogacy, both have pluses and minuses. Merlin spends the next month doing research and trying to formulate his own plan. He’s certain Arthur already knows what he wants to do, and Merlin wants to be able to have his own opinions on this.

He decides they should look for a home. A real house where they can raise children in. The townhouse has served them well, but that’s not where Merlin imagines setting up a Christmas tree with tons of presents for their children and none of the extra bedrooms look like nurseries. So they spend the eighth month of their marriage looking for homes. 

Merlin is excited to see some of the cottages closer to the countryside until he realizes that cottage is a funny name that houses with fourteen bedrooms have.

“Look, Doris, I appreciate that you’re showing us all these houses, but I’m drawing the line at four bedrooms.”

“Excuse us,” Arthur says and pulls Merlin away. “A bedroom for us and then we both need an office. So that’s already three rooms.”

“We can share an office.”

Arthur makes a face.

“Fine, all right, you get your own so you can be obnoxiously neat and organized.”

“I thought my organization skills were charming.”

“I said that when I was still hoping to get in your trousers,” Merlin says. “Now I’ve been there, licked that, and don’t need to lie anymore.”

Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m so thrilled that as I age linearly, you age backwards.”

“Are you calling me immature?”

“If the shoe fits.”

“I see. So I’ll give you six bedrooms, but not a bedroom more.”

The house they end up choosing is over a hundred years old. It needs a little bit of work, but nothing extraordinary. Merlin is happy to pick out paint colors and countertops for the kitchen while Arthur guides the landscapers and the roofers. It all comes together just in time for their first wedding anniversary. They have a small dinner party and invite everyone who attended their wedding.

Merlin invites Uther. He sends him a personalized note along with the invitation. He includes his mobile number and asks that Uther call him. _Or you can text me if you’d rather_ , Merlin wrote _, I don’t know if kings text. That seems kind of weird, doesn’t it?_

Everyone comes, and in a shocking turn of events, Uther texts Merlin and declines the invitation, which becomes the first secret Merlin purposefully keeps from Arthur. Gwen and Lance get a sitter so they can enjoy a child-free evening and Morgana and Leon pretend they didn’t arrive together. Hunith and Gaius both stay for the entire weekend and retire to their separate guest bedrooms. Just as stealthily as they arrived, Leon and Morgana disappear. Which is fine by Merlin; he prefers the company of Lance and Gwen over everyone else anyway.

“I can’t believe you’ve been married an entire year,” Gwen says.

“I can’t believe you’re still not married at all,” Merlin counters. They sit in the living room with full wine glasses in their hands.

“We’ll probably elope,” Lance says. “But we’re waiting until Vivi’s a little older so she can spend the night away from us.”

“Oh! She can stay here!” Merlin offers. “It would be great practice.”

“Practice for what?” Gwen asks.

Merlin feels his face heat. “We’ve been looking into surrogacy. I think that’s the road we’ll go down.”

Lance says, “That’s great,” but Gwen looks shocked.

“Who is going to be your surrogate?”

“We’ll go through an agency,” answers Arthur. “It’ll be more difficult because we’ll have to find someone who can be discrete.”

“He’s not even a prince but he’s still convinced people think he’s important,” Merlin jokes.

“So you’re going to get a donor egg?”

“That part, yes.”

“Who’ll be the father?”

“We both will,” Arthur says tightly.

Gwen waves a dismissive hand. “I meant biologically.”

“We both will,” Arthur repeats, but with less annoyance. “We plan on having a couple of embryos with both of our, er, sperm. We won’t know, biologically, who the father will be.”

“That’s actually rather sweet,” says Gwen. “You better have at least two, then.”

“At least?” Merlin laughs. “We aren’t here to start a rugby team, you know.”

They all finish off the bottle of wine and Arthur orders a car service to take Lance and Gwen back home. They leave their car in the driveway to pick up tomorrow. Merlin and Arthur go to bed and finish celebrating year one of marriage alone.

***

Three days later and Hunith and Gaius have left to get back to their house, Merlin is working from home, and Arthur still has another two hours before going to his rounds at the hospital. Merlin spreads cream cheese on a bagel when Gwen walks into their kitchen.

“We need to hire new security,” Merlin says, “they’ll let just anybody into our house!”

“Whatever,” Gwen says, “listen. I don’t care whose eggs you use, but I want to be the one to carry your kid.”

Merlin fumbles with the knife and drops it. It clatters against his plate. “What?”

“I already talked to Lance about it.”

“You can’t be our surrogate,” says Arthur.

“Actually, I can. I looked into it. Surrogates have to be in good health and have had at least one previous healthy pregnancy. Vivi gave me some morning sickness, but it wasn’t awful, and her birth was normal. I didn’t even have stitches.”

“Gross,” says Merlin. 

Gwen sits on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. She places her hands on the countertop and continues, “Think about it this way. You’re still royalty even if you won’t ever sit on the throne. You can’t have some random woman carrying your children. What if she changes her mind and sells her story to the tabloids? What if she tries to extort you for money? All the NDAs in the world cannot protect you against crazy. The surrogacy laws here are nonexistent. At any point she could take your baby and just keep it! You’d have to both file for adoption at the birth regardless of who is the biological father.

“And I know you think I’m overreacting,” she continues, “but wouldn’t it be a lovely story to tell your children that they were so important to you, that you wanted them so much, that you made sure the woman who carried them would love them _almost_ as much as the two of you?”

“I can’t ask you to do this. It’s such a long commitment, nine months, and, like, what if something happened to you?” Merlin shakes his head.

“What you are offering is an amazing gift,” Arthur says.

“It’s only because I love both of you. And you wouldn’t be allowed to pay me. I’d forbid it. But you could do something else with that money.”

“You can’t say yes,” Merlin says. “It’s too much. It’s too gracious. What if you died, Gwen? Mums die giving birth all the time!”

“Yes, which is why I’d insist on the best care, which I’m certain will not be hard to find if St Mary’s knows I’m carrying the King’s grandchild.”

Merlin sees Arthur flinch, but it’s so subtle he’s sure Gwen doesn’t notice. They talk in circles a little while longer, but five months later Katrina posts a press release for Arthur. Now that Arthur has abdicated, he no longer has to go through the royal family’s webpage for press releases. He has his own outlets for that so they’re nowhere near as formal.

_A Statement from the Duke of Camelot_

_Duke of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon, and his husband, Merlin Pendragon, would like to formally announce the forthcoming birth of their first child. Now having ended the first twelve weeks of pregnancy, their surrogate is healthy. Both surrogate and baby are doing well. The due date is approximately twenty-eight weeks from today._

_The Pendragons continue to thank England for their ongoing support and they will share upcoming news in due course._

***

Merlin is certain that today, right now, this is the day one of the Pendragon’s is going to make him throw up. He’s so nervous and his palms are sweaty and maybe the room is spinning a little bit. He’s shown into a very formal living room. The sofas have wooden feet and the tables looked to have been carved by hand. He doesn’t sit, but he’s been instructed to wait, so he does.

It’s nearly twenty minutes before one of the doors opens and Uther walks in. Merlin’s mind goes blank and he can’t remember what he’s supposed to do. He freezes.

Uther stares at him and Merlin stares back.

Then he remembers and he bows, albeit rather clumsily. 

“What can I do for you?” Uther asks.

“Thanks for seeing me, Your Majesty. I was wondering if you saw the announcement.”

“Announcement about what?”

“The baby.”

Uther visibly tenses. “Yes.”

“Okay, great, so we don’t have to pretend I’m the one giving you the news. Look, Uther – uh, am I allowed to call you that? No? Okay, we’ll just stick with ‘sir’ as well, shall we? Anyway, look, Arthur is stubborn as shit, I know you know this. But I want to know what I can do to help you guys mend things. I know you’re angry that I’m not a woman, but if it wasn’t me, then Arthur would have found another man. Maybe not to marry, but to be with in some other way. And it would have eventually gotten out.”

Uther is quiet.

“Right, so I know you’re not happy he’s with me. Which is fine, I don’t think I need you to like me, but it kills Arthur not having you there. It really does. Morgana told me you tried to call him and he ignored you, but we’re going to have a baby. Arthur told me that the royal family never gives out the gender ahead of time, but we found out what we’re having – do you want to know?”

Uther remains quiet, but his face softens, ever so slightly, and Merlin takes this as an affirmative.

“We’re having a girl.” Merlin takes in a shaky breath. “I honestly didn’t think this would happen to me. Like, I always wanted kids, but I grew up without a lot of money and then I got sick and my mum spent most of her savings on taking care of me for over a year. She quit her job so she used what she’d saved to live. Then my own job paid well enough, but not enough to ever dream of doing this surrogacy thing. So this is practically a dream come true for me. We both have embryos with our DNA, which I know will probably freak you out because you’ll worry that someone will try to steal the prince’s embryos—”

“Of course,” Uther snaps, “that’s a huge concern.”

“Which is why the embryos are being stored somewhere other than the IVF clinic. Arthur worked it all out.”

“Who’s baby is it? That this … surrogate is carrying.”

“The surrogate is my best friend. Gwen. And we don’t know. We both have to adopt at birth anyway, and to us, it doesn’t matter who is the biological dad.”

Uther purses his lips and raises his head slightly.

“I can tell you think this is all a bunch of crap. But I came here hoping you’d come by for dinner one night. We do dinner every Sunday with Gwen and her family. It’d be nice if you could get to know her and get to know us – I mean, me and Arthur, as a couple.”

“Why? My son clearly wants nothing to do with me.”

“You guys are both stubborn. He’s not going to make the first move here. It has to be you, but I know he’ll talk to you if you come around. He told me as much.”

Uther is silent and stiff.

“I love him,” Merlin says quietly, “if that makes any difference to you. And I believe I make him happy. I think that should be the most important thing, yeah?”

“You two are making a mistake having this baby.”

“We’re not,” Merlin says. “I’m going to text you the details of Sunday dinner. I hope you can come. Shall I see myself out?”

Uther calls for one of his PPOs to see Merlin to the door.

***

**TODAY**

Arthur doesn’t have any more cake, but Merlin still cut him a piece. His coffee has a sprinkle of nutmeg and a bit of cream and he tries to sip it, but he almost can’t taste it. Merlin retreats back into the house, leaving him alone with his father.

“So why are you here?” Arthur breaks the silence.

“Because it has been too long. I should never have allowed it to go this far. I was stubborn and I daresay you were stubborn as well.”

Arthur doesn’t want to acknowledge this.

“And Merlin gave me an invitation.”

“There it is.” Arthur shakes his head in disbelief.

“I see him quite often as it were.” 

“What? What do you mean?”

“Merlin comes to see me. He brings me invitations to birthday parties and photos of the children. He first came by when Gwen was pregnant with your daughter. He hand-delivered her birth announcement. And your son’s. Each time he tries to convince me to come over for dinner.”

“I had no idea.” There’s a strange burn in Arthur’s eyes.

“No, I didn’t think you did. He’s told me all about your work. How you finished medical school and then went right into research.”

“Cancer research,” Arthur says softly.

“Pediatric cancer research,” Uther clarifies.

“Yes.”

“And how you used your own private money to start a free summer camp program for kids with cancer that Merlin run?”

“The first program won’t happen until the summer, but we started it a couple years ago. It was a lot of prep work. We built it from the ground up – or he did, really. Loads of fundraisers and planning, but that’s what he’s good at. He stays home with the kids right now. We’ll see how that changes when this summer program really takes off.”

“No nanny?”

“Sort of. We have someone who comes a few days a week, but Merlin is here, too. She helps mind the children when he needs to focus on work. It’s not a traditional arrangement, of course.”

“I see you are wearing a wedding ring. Really stepping away from all the old traditions.”

Arthur looks down at his hand. He told Merlin before their wedding that men in the royal family usually do not wear a ring, but Merlin wanted him to, and so he did. He likes it. He liked when he was in school and the other students would see it on his finger or when he’s at work, knowing it’s a reminder for people that he’s married. He likes that it makes him think of Merlin every time he touches his hand.

“But I see it works for you,” Uther continues.

“Have you ever met the children?”

“No.”

“How did Merlin sneak out of here all those times to see you without me knowing?”

“I never asked. Merlin tells me you’re happy.”

“I am,” Arthur admits. “Does he tell you he’s happy?”

“He doesn’t have to,” Uther says. “He came to me once after you two had had a row. He was clearly annoyed, but he the way he spoke about it, it was as though he knew you each had done something wrong and would forgive one another as soon as he got back home. He spoke about it as though he had no doubts everything would be all right. I do not know that I’ve ever seen that kind of confidence before. Confidence in each other, I mean.”

Arthur tense his jaw and swallows back a lump of emotion. “Right.”

“I’d like to meet my grandchildren.”

“Not yet,” says Arthur. “I really want you to know that I didn’t make any mistakes. Loving Merlin and these children is the most right thing I have ever done. I know you wanted me to put on a different face for the crown or the throne, but it would have killed me. Knowing what it felt like to love someone differently than I’d ever loved anyone, I couldn’t have asked him to watch me marry or have children with someone else. Knowing that’s what you wanted for me, though—”

“No,” says Uther. “Past tense. That is what I _wanted_ for you years ago. That is not what I want now. I was wrong. Merlin wanted me to tell you, but I did not want to hear what he had to say. It was easier to do nothing in case you did not want to hear from me.”

“He’s cleverer than anyone gives him credit for.”

Uther nods. “Yes.”

“Well, Bea is watching something on her tablet. I’ll bring her outside.” Arthur stands. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Arthur opens the door to go back inside the house, he sees Merlin racing past.

“Stop right there! You little eavesdropper.”

Merlin feigns shock. “I would never!”

Arthur raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, all right. Can you blame me? You haven’t spoken in _years_.”

“You’ve been talking to my dad behind my back.”

“Duh. I did it for your own good.”

“I should be furious with you. This is a big secret to keep.”

“It was quite the long game, let me tell you. I honestly figured of the two of you, he was the least stubborn so I spent all these years trying to wear him down.”

“What finally broke him?”

Merlin shrugs. “You’ll have to ask him. I hope you’re not angry. I did second-guess myself a couple of times.”

Arthur grabs hold of the front of Merlin’s shirt and pulls him forward. “You’re amazing. Thank you.” 

“Yep. You can kiss me if you want.”

“Oh, I can, can I?”

Merlin nods and then presses forward.

***

**FOUR YEARS AGO**

“Do you want to hold her first?” Merlin asks, looking at Gwen.

She pushes the sweaty fringe away from her face. “No. You should do it.”

Merlin glances at Arthur who nods towards the nurse who is holding their daughter. She’s all cleaned up and weighed and measured and Merlin cradles her in his arms.

“Oh my god,” he breathes. “She’s so tiny. How is she even possible?” 

Arthur comes up behind him and puts his arms around his waist, his chin on his shoulder, his whispers in his ear. “It is pretty amazing.”

Merlin looks at Gwen who is still being tended to by the St Mary’s doctors. Lance is perched on the bed next to her.

“I don’t know what to say,” Merlin says. 

“Don’t,” Gwen says, looking away from him. “If you cry, I’ll cry. Don’t thank me either, I can’t take that. But I expect to be her godmother, so you know, just accept that.”

Arthur removes his arms and moves to stand in front of Merlin. He uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe away his tears.

“You’re a mess.”

“Okay, but did any of you really expect anything else from me?”

Arthur smirks and shakes his head. “Never.”

They only spend a few hours in hospital before leaving. They have all the paperwork ready before they take her home. Gwen and Lance stay for a little while longer, mostly because Gwen feels so tired, but partly so they can all leave separately in case any reporters caught wind they were all here.

“Are you really all right not being the one to leave with her?” Merlin asks.

“Of course,” Gwen says. “She was never mine to begin with.”

“But she was a part of you for nine months.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen says, “she was always a part of the two of you. I was just lucky enough to get to have a piece of her for a little while. She doesn’t belong to me.”

Arthur pulls him away before either of them burst into tears. Merlin lets him. They go sneak out a back entrance and Leon drives them home. It’s not until Gwen is caught leaving the hospital that word gets out that the baby has been born. Normally with royal births, there’s a press release as soon as labor begins, but Arthur didn’t want anyone knowing and Merlin was in complete agreement.

They wait until she is two days old before letting Katrina release a statement.

_A Statement from the Duke of Camelot_

_Duke of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon, and his husband, Merlin Pendragon, are delighted at the news that their surrogate was safely delivered of a daughter on Monday at 0944am. All family members and baby are doing well._

They announce her name the week after: Beatrix Guinevere Rose Madeleine Pendragon.

Her nursery is decorated in blues and greens. She doesn’t sleep through the night for several weeks. Both Merlin and Arthur are home, but Arthur still has medical school to attend and he can only stay away for so long. He doesn’t want to use his station to extend his stay and Merlin insists he do his studies. Luckily Bea is an easy baby and Merlin enjoys the time with her. 

When she’s three months old, Arthur suggests looking for nannies so they won’t feel rushed when Merlin is ready to go back to work in another few months. 

“I think maybe I want to stay home,” Merlin confesses. “Although, I’ll let you hire a housekeeper for a couple days a week as a compromise.”

“You can admit you don’t want to clean the toilets.”

“I really don’t.”

“I would love nothing more than to have you home.”

“Not forever,” Merlin clarifies.

“Not forever,” Arthur agrees, but his tone doesn’t sound convinced.

A few days later, Merlin tells Arthur he is going to meet Gwen for coffee, but he makes a detour first and shows up at the palace. Leon knows how to get him in without anyone seeing and Merlin waits in the same sitting room as before.

When Uther enters he looks beyond annoyed.

Merlin hands him the birth announcement. He has it memorized and practically reads it silently along with Uther.

“Rose,” Uther says.

“Arthur told me it was his mother’s middle name.”

“Yes. Beatrix was my grandmother.”

“Beatrix Potter books were my favorite when I grew up,” says Merlin, “so we’re calling it a happy coincidence.”

“Who is this Guinevere?”

“Gwen, my best friend. She carried our daughter.”

“Yes, you told me that last time.” Uther holds the announcement out as though expecting Merlin to take it back.

“Are you mad? That’s your copy. I didn’t want it to get lost in post. Thought it best if I dropped it on by. I hope you’ll come to her baptism. Which Arthur insists upon because of tradition – the baptism, I mean. He doesn’t want to invite you because he’s afraid you’ll say no. So I’m inviting you instead, this way if you don’t show up, I’ll be the only one disappointed.”

“I shall be in South Africa.”

“Will you though? I haven’t even told you when it’s going to be.”

“I have my own sources, you know.”

“Oh, right, you being King and all, you can find out whatever you want. So I’m sure the South Africa trip was planned in case you weren’t invited at all, then?”

“How dare you.”

“The two of you are so much alike,” Merlin says. “Would you like to see a picture of her? I have a lot on my mobile.”

Uther shakes his head once. 

Merlin groans and rolls his eyes. “I’ll text them to you later, then, shall I? There’s dinner at our house on Sunday, but assuming you can’t go, I can catch you up. We were going to interview nannies, but we decided I’d stay home instead. Which, don’t worry, I’m not a disaster at this. I’m sure you were concerned about that. Arthur is pretty great at this whole parent thing, too. He’s acing all his tests and things. He’s top of his class, which shouldn’t surprise you. I heard he was top of his class at whatever posh private school you sent him to.”

“I’m sorry he has to go through more schooling instead of taking his place next to the throne.”

“At this point, are you really? It’s been over two years.”

Uther looks back down at the birth announcement. “She was quite small when she was born.”

“Tiny,” Merlin agrees, his voice very soft. “She has blue eyes and blonde hair. I hear her hair may darken the older she gets, but for now it’s blonde.”

“So she must be Arthur’s.”

Merlin shrugs. “Biologically, perhaps.”

Uther’s eyebrows pull together as though there was something profound in that statement. Then he straightens up. “I really can’t waste any more of my time today. I have a meeting in ten minutes. Was there anything else?”

“I’ll text you the details of Sunday dinner.”

Uther turns and goes towards the door he came in through. Before he disappears, Merlin says, “And I’ll send you pictures of Bea if you want them.”

The way Uther catches his eye before walking away tells Merlin yes.

***

Merlin doesn’t get to see as much of Arthur as he’d like since there’s still two years left in med school, but luckily Arthur is able to use his influence to find a part-time nanny who comes by two afternoons a week. At first Merlin isn’t thrilled because it feels disingenuous to have someone take care of their daughter just so he can have a break, but it really does make his life easier. He’s able to go to the store and have coffee with Gwen or have an early dinner with Arthur and still be home in time for bedtime. 

Every Sunday morning he texts Uther details of dinner along with a weekly round-up of photos he’s taken of Bea. When she starts to crawl, he takes a video of it and sends it to him. When she stands for the first time at ten months old, he uploads the picture online and orders prints so he can have one framed for Uther.

When it’s almost time for her to turn an entire year old, Merlin can’t believe how quickly the time has passed. They sit and work on a plan for Bea’s first birthday, which Arthur is finding difficult to do.

“We always hired someone to do this for us.”

“Okay, but you grew up spoiled and my job at Wishes was to, quite literally, plan things. So I can plan a first birthday party.”

“Then do whatever you want for it,” Arthur says. 

“I want to do it _with_ you.”

“All right, what’s on the list first?” Arthur sounds rather resigned, but Merlin ignores that.

“A theme.”

“I’m guessing ‘one’ isn’t a theme?”

“No,” says Merlin. “I was thinking something like unicorns or something.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No way.”

“Princess? Oh my god! That’s _hilarious_. And rather ironic since you abdicated for her so she can’t be one.” Merlin pauses. “Did I use the word ironic correctly here? We could make her highchair into a little throne and give her a crown.”

“You want to put on the invitations ‘Our Little Princess Turns One,’ don’t you?”

“It’s like you can read my mind!”

“Do you really need to go all out with invitations and everything? I assume it’s going to be a small party.”

“Yes,” says Merlin. “But we should put in there that any gifts will go to Birthday Charities.”

“…dare I ask?”

“It’s an organization that throws birthday parties for kids who are too poor to have their own parties.”

“Wow.” 

Arthur’s voice is so soft that Merlin looks up. “What? Why’d you say it like that?”

“I thought you’d never be able to surprise me again, but here you go. Surprising me.”

“You don’t like my idea?”

“I _love_ your idea. It’s perfect.” Arthur stands and goes to Merlin’s chair. He reaches for him and pulls him up. “I’m overtaken by a sudden need to bring you upstairs and remove all your clothes.”

“Is that so? We’re in the middle of planning a party.”

“Invite the usual people. Do everything in pink and gold. Find royal-themed games. Vanilla cake, pink icing. Finger sandwiches and fruits and raw vegetables. There. We’re done.”

Merlin frowns.

“What you don’t understand is that when you say things like wanting to donate presents, it makes me fall even more in love with you. Which seems as though it shouldn’t be possible, but it is, and I do. Merlin, the good in you is so genuine I often find it shocking. So when you do or say things that I find surprising, it makes me want to take you upstairs and love you in all the ways I know how.”

Merlin’s mouth feels suddenly dry. “I’ve never really been told I’m ‘good’ before. Usually when people think of me, it’s how snarky and awkward I am.”

“No, that’s secondary to the rest. Come on.”

***

Merlin sends Uther a small photo album of all the pictures that were taken at Bea’s first birthday. He includes a handwritten note.

_Your Majesty –_

_(aka Uther but also ‘Gramps’)_

_Last week was Bea’s first birthday. She still has blonde hair. She looks so much like Arthur, which luckily is a blessing so far instead of a curse because Arthur does have rather oddly shaped teeth. We did a princess theme, which I’m sure you already know since I sent you an invitation in the post. I thought the theme was rather ironic since she’s the daughter of a prince who will never be a princess._

_Arthur played the perfect host. You would be proud._

_I like to believe he’s still very happy, which I can’t decide whether you’re relieved or upset by that. But if it wasn’t me, he would’ve probably married a woman like you wanted and then he would’ve been miserable and sad, living in secret and shadows. It all would’ve imploded. At least this way we all know what to expect and you know he’s happy._

_Arthur and I want to start a children’s charity. We’re in the beginning stages of it. Hopefully we can have it running in the next two years. We hope to have the support of the crown, but even if we don’t, it’s something I hope you can be proud of. It’s not being a figurehead of a country, but it’s still philanthropic._

_Keep the album. I have other copies._

_~Merlin_

***

**TODAY**

Arthur watches as his father reads Bea a bedtime story. Charlie has long-since been put to bed. He doesn’t remember his father being this at-ease when he or Morgana were little. This is a side to Uther he doesn’t know, the side that is making amends. 

“My god, what kind of dirty blackmail does Merlin have our father?”

Arthur glances behind him. Morgana has put on her jacket and looks ready to leave. “Actually, come with me.” Arthur grabs her elbow and takes her out the back doors to the garden. He closes the door behind him.

“Are you mad?” she laughs. “I’m ready to go home.”

“Why aren’t you marrying Leon?”

Morgana groans. “Seriously, Arthur?”

“As much as I hate you, I love you more.”

“What kind of dirty blackmail does Merlin have on you to make you have this conversation with me?”

“Merlin did not have to put me up to this.”

Morgana narrows her eyes. “Then why?”

Arthur sighs. “If you had permission from the crown to marry Leon, would you do it? What if you could be queen and he could be prince?”

“Unlike you, I want the crown. I want to be queen one day.”

“I know that.”

Morgana rolls back her shoulders and stands up a little straighter. “My children will have rights to the crown as well.”

“As they should, but they can have rights to the crown no matter who you are married to. I want you to be happy. I guarantee if I had not followed my heart I would be miserable.”

“To follow your heart, you had to abdicate.” 

“I could have stood up to our father. I don’t know what good that would have done at the time. It’s taken this long for him to come around. Yet he’s seen what years apart has done. He has two grandchildren he does not know – he is practically a stranger to our entire family. I daresay he does not want the same to happen to you. He would rather see you marry someone who will make you happy than watch you be miserable simply because you want to be queen.”

Morgana doesn’t look convinced.

“Also,” Arthur continues, “imagine his response if you end up having an affair with Leon and the press finds out. What a scandal that would be.”

“I would never!” Morgana cries. She has the decency to look outraged.

“You haven’t slept with him once since you’ve been engaged?”

Morgana’s nostrils flair.

“Why haven’t you made a press announcement about the engagement?”

Morgana is silent.

Arthur takes her by the shoulders and turns her around. They look through the large back window into the family room where Uther sits on the sofa with Bea. “Look at them, Morgana. Did you ever think our father would be here right now? Reading to his granddaughter? A granddaughter who may not even be his biologically? I am not so naïve that I think everything shall be perfect after this. I’m sure there will be a lot of bumps in the road, but I am optimistic enough to think that we will be able to head in the right direction. Don’t you want that for yourself?”

“If he didn’t want me to get married, he wouldn’t have given permission.”

“You should ask for permission for Leon.”

“Leon hasn’t asked me to marry him.”

“You should ask him.”

Morgana snorts. “Unlikely.”

“Then tell him to ask you. See what happens.”

“Why do you want everyone to be happy? It’s gross. I don’t even know if I want kids anyway.”

“You’ll have kids to ensure you’ll have a successor. A Pendragon successor. Not one of our awful cousins.”

“I’m going home.”

“Shall I have Leon walk you to your car?”

Morgana throws Arthur a nasty look over her shoulder and stalks back inside. She doesn’t bother saying goodbye.

***

**TWO YEARS AGO**

“Okay, look, and this would be the main building. Like where the kitchens are and the infirmary. Then all the cabins are down here.” Merlin moves his fingers against the trackpad of his laptop. They’re sitting at the table in the kitchen while Bea sits only a few feet away watching a Disney movie on the sofa in their family room. “And each of the cabins house eight campers, plus this small room where a counselor will sleep.” He pauses. “Or should we have two counselors per cabin?”

Arthur pulls the laptop closer to him. “I’m not sure. I think that’s more of your expertise than mine. Or is it a question of legality?”

“I’ll write it down on the list of things I need to ask the lawyers when I meet with them. But I had this other idea …”

“Go on.”

“I know we said we’d start this as a summer camp for kids with cancer, but that seems rather limiting, don’t you think?”

“Limiting to who?”

“The kids.”

Arthur blinks. “I know I am usually quite well versed in interpreting the things you say, but right now, I’m lost.”

“Don’t kill me—”

“Only in my dreams.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “What if instead of cancer, we do a rotating theme – no, no. Theme sounds awful. A rotation of different disabilities or illnesses. A week of camp for kids with diabetes and then a week of camp for kids with, I don’t know, amputations or asthma or you name it. I bet there are loads of kids who feel so alone because they don’t know anyone else who looks like them or has the same disorder as them. We could make it year-round.”

“That’s … that’s a lot.” 

“When I worked for Wishes, we had all kinds of kids come and ask for things. We could also offer camps where only siblings could come. I remember being in chemo with this girl who said her sister hated her because they could never do anything fun because she was always sick. What if we could have an outlet for kids who are dealing with sick siblings or sick parents?”

Arthur shakes his head.

“Oh,” says Merlin, feeling his face fall, “you think it’s a bad idea?”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea. I think you’re too good.”

“It’s a lot more planning and fundraising and cost involved.”

“You can do it. It would all be free?”

“Yes and no. It would have to be constant fundraising of course, but also a sliding scale. No one would be asked to pay more than they could afford and no one would be turned down because they cannot pay. But construction would take about a year and a half they said. Maybe a little bit more because of everything we’re wanting to do.”

“It’s fantastic,” Arthur says. 

Merlin looks at the time. “Gwen and Lance will be here soon.”

“Oh is it that time already?”

“Are you ready for that conversation?”

Arthur takes in a deep breath. “I am rather nervous, to tell you the truth.”

“You bought wine, right?”

“Multiple bottles and changed the sheets on the guest bed in case they’re too drunk to drive home.”

“Excellent.” Merlin closes his laptop and walks over to the kitchen and starts pulling ingredients out of the fridges and the cabinets. He pauses and turns around. “Did you change the sheets or did you have the cleaning lady do it?”

“I did it!” Arthur cries. “You seem to forget that before you, I never used a cleaning lady when I was still in line for the throne. You’re the one who doesn’t know where we keep the spare bed linens.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. He starts chopping vegetables and dicing garlic. Gwen and Lance show up only minutes later with Vivi in tow. They set the girls up with apple slices and peanut butter sandwiches and juice and another Disney movie while Gwen helps Merlin with dinner for the rest of them. Arthur pours everyone a glass of wine.

“You seem really anxious,” Gwen says, narrowing her eyes at Arthur. “Did you do something stupid?”

“Me? No.”

“Then what’s up? I mean, you’re high-strung—”

“I am not.”

“Yeah, all right,” Gwen sniggers. “But you’re worse than normal. Didn’t you start your researching job yet?”

Merlin catches Arthur’s eye and then clears his throat and looks back at Gwen. “So. Look. Bea is just over a year and a half.”

“Uh huh. I’m aware. I was there for the birth.”

“Yes, of course. But we’ve been talking about, maybe – _possibility_ – having another.”

Gwen raises her eyebrows. “Another what?”

“Baby.”

“So you thought you’d get me drunk off expensive red wine and ask me to carry another one of your kids?”

“No,” Arthur says at the exact same time Merlin says, “Yes.”

“No,” Arthur says again, this time more firm. “Gwen, you did an incredible thing – a gift. There will never be words adequate enough to express how grateful we are for it. We are only asking you now because you did it the first time, but we know how much of a sacrifice it is, so if you don’t wish to do it again, we understand.”

“What he said,” Merlin adds.

“How many kids do you want?” Gwen asks. She holds up a hand to Merlin and looks right at Arthur. “I know Merlin wants a million and my uterus can’t handle that many.”

Arthur swirls the wine in his glass and takes a deep breath. “You know, before Merlin I suspected I’d be alone and never marry. Or if I did, it wouldn’t be a marriage that I consummated. I have never been with women before, I don’t know if you knew that.”

Gwen shakes her head.

“My future was so bleak in terms of romance or relationships that I did not allow myself to think about being a father or having a family. Then this little girl wanted to be Cinderella and all that changed. I had a romantic prospect like I’d never had before. My vision for children has always been blank. I wanted them when I knew Merlin wanted them. I dared to let myself imagine myself with a real family. To answer your question, Gwen, I want whatever I am lucky enough to have. So if it’s one daughter then that will be the family I am blessed to have. What I have right now is more than I ever imagined would be possible for me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Gwen says. “Pull at my heartstrings a little harder, will you?” She rolls her eyes, downs the rest of her wine in one large gulp, and turns to face Lance.

“I told you,” Lance says.

“I know.”

“Told her what?” Merlin asks.

“I told her about a month ago that you guys were gonna want to add another kid soon.”

“So, er, you’ve already talked about this, then?” Merlin guesses.

Lance shrugs. “It’s come up once or twice. I did enjoy the last pregnancy. Not the morning sickness, that’s always hard to watch, but when people came up and ask what we’re having or if we’re excited and I told them it wasn’t mine.” Lance laughs to himself. “What a riot.”

“I had no idea you had an evil side,” Arthur says.

“I know,” gushes Gwen, “isn’t it wonderful?”

There’s a moment of silence and Merlin shifts from one foot to the other. “Gwen, I want you to know that if you don’t want to do it nothing will change between us. You’ll still be—”

“I’ll do it.”

Merlin’s mouth hangs open. “You – you will?”

“Yes. We’d already decided a couple weeks ago.”

A million different emotions that Merlin didn’t even realize he was holding inside all come crashing together at once and he bursts into tears. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Arthur start to move towards him, but Gwen gets there first. She hugs him, brings him in close, and whispers reassurances into his ear.

***

Two months later, Gwen is pregnant again. It’s surreal. They decide not to make any announcements like they did last time. It’s a normal pregnancy and, surprisingly, Gwen does not have any morning sickness. It’s a blessing, albeit very surprising. Her catering business is busier than ever so Merlin considers themselves lucky that she wanted to make the food for Bea’s second birthday party. 

Merlin plans the whole thing – of course – and when Gwen arrives, already very round, she pulls Merlin to the side and tells him that she already knows the gender of the baby.

“I thought that was next week!” Merlin cries. “We were planning on being there.”

“I know, but they were able to tell yesterday so.” She shrugs. “I wrote it down on a piece of paper so you and Arthur could open it together and find out at the same time.” She hands him a folded up piece of paper. “Cheers.”

Merlin went through the party in a bit of a daze and once everyone was gone and the kitchen was cleaned up, he rushed through Bea’s bath and bedtime story so that he could deliver the news to Arthur.

“No, don’t go downstairs yet,” Merlin says after they close the door to Bea’s room. He grabs Arthur’s hand and leads him towards their room. “Here.” He shoves the paper at Arthur and then sits down on the edge of their bed.

“What is it?”

“Gwen gave it to me. She had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and they told her the gender of the baby.”

“What? I thought that was next week.”

“She wrote it down.”

Arthur looks at the paper in his hands. “Do you want me to open it? Should we let it be a surprise?”

“We’ll never agree on a name in time if we don’t open it and find out. Remember last time it took us almost the whole pregnancy to agree on Beatrix.”

“Sure, sure.” 

Merlin watches as Arthur carefully unfolds the paper and looks at the word written down. Arthur takes a deep breath, swallows, and then turns the paper around. It’s three letters written in Gwen’s loopy cursive. _Boy_. Really, Merlin would have been happy either way, but knowing they’re now going to have a daughter and a son does something funny to his insides and he feels lightheaded.

“This is amazing,” Merlin whispers.

Arthur nods. “And only eighteen weeks to argue about a name.”

“If you suggest one of those awful Welsh names of your ancestors I will quite literally find a divorce lawyer. No child of ours is gonna be named Dafydd or Gruffudd or Angwyn.”

“I don’t have an ancestor named Dafydd. Although I do have a great-great-great-uncle Boreugwyn. He was an illegitimate child of Princess Catrin and one of the knights. His name means white or holy. Catrin’s husband supposedly had him murdered when he was only a few months old. Drowned. Although my father says it’s much more likely they simply had him kidnapped and off to live with distant relatives on farmland somewhere.”

“All this time and I’ve never heard this story? That wouldn’t have happened if they’d named him Doug.”

“We’re not naming our son Doug.”

Merlin shrugs. “So – the next big question is – do we stay up here and fool around or go downstairs and watch the Food Network?”

Arthur grins and unbuttons his shirt. “As though that’s even a real question.”

***

Gwen doesn’t make it eighteen more weeks. At thirty-five weeks, two days, she goes into labor. Everything seems to be normal, but the doctors do ask that the baby stay in the hospital for a couple days to ensure he is able to maintain his own body temperature, but his lungs seem to be developed and he seems to be healthy despite being born even tinier than Bea. They get to take him home after three days, at which time Katrina releases a statement about the birth. 

_A Statement from the Duke of Camelot_

_Duke of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon, and his husband, Merlin Pendragon, are delighted at the news that their surrogate was safely delivered of a son on last Wednesday at 0316am. All family members and baby are doing well. Previous statements regarding the pregnancy were withheld for the privacy of both surrogate and the Pendragons._

_The Pendragons continue to thank England for their ongoing support and understanding._

A week later Katrina officially releases his name: Charles Michael Louis Pendragon. They plan on calling him Charlie for short.

It takes Merlin almost a month before he’s able to visit Uther. He texted him photos from the hospital and a few updates. When he finally makes it to the palace to see Uther, there’s tea and a sandwich waiting for him.

“Expecting me?”

“Leon called ahead and I didn’t wish to be rude and eat in front of you.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Merlin sits and grabs a triangle of sandwich. “If this is cucumber then I’ll know you only had someone bring you extra to torture me. Oh. Egg and mayo. All right then. You know, I first had an egg sandwich when I went to America when I was a teenager. They had them at this sandwich shop in California. I thought it was mad, but it was delicious.”

“Enthralling as always.”

Merlin shoves the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and watches Uther try very, very hard not to roll his eyes. 

“Here’s the birth announcement and some photographs.”

“Charles. Even smaller than your other one was.”

“Yes, he was born early. About a month. I panicked when Gwen rang to tell us her waters broke. He’s healthy, though. Very loud. Cries like a banshee. We call him Charlie.”

“How’s your daughter taking having a baby in the house?”

Merlin almost cries tears of joy. This is the first time Uther has referred to Bea as _your daughter_. 

“She’s been all right,” he admits, “but maybe a little jealous. She’s only two, you know.”

“Is this the last of them, then?”

“Last of what?”

“The children. I cannot imagine your surrogate would want to go through this a third time.”

“Gwen,” Merlin corrects. “She has a name. She’s very much part of our family. She still comes over every Sunday if you ever want to meet her. Anyway. We don’t plan on asking her to do it again and we don’t want a stranger to do it, not after she carried our first two. So I this is probably it. Our family – me and Arthur and Bea and Charlie.”

“Merlin, Arthur, Bea, and Charlie,” Uther repeats. “Paints quite the family picture.” He looks at the photographs Merlin brought. “This one has darker hair. Is he yours?”

“We don’t know. Like I’ve said before, we don’t plan to ever run paternity tests. The paperwork we signed says the children are both of ours.”

“Yes, of course.” Uther quickly changes the subject. “Is Arthur done with school?”

“He’s working in a research lab right now. He’s hoping for a placement soon in cancer research.”

Uther eyes him. “I see. And he’s still happy?”

“Probably not at this exact moment, but overall, yes.” 

“What does that mean, pray tell?”

“Nothing,” says Merlin with a sigh. “We had a row before I left to come here. We’re both tired. Charlie cries like a fucking lunatic all night long. Bea wasn’t like that. I’m exhausted, he’s exhausted. It’ll be all right, though.”

Uther raises his eyebrows as though asking Merlin to elaborate.

“I mean, we fight sometimes, kind of rarely, but it’s not a big deal. We usually take a little bit to calm down and then we apologize and talk through it. We never go to bed angry. There’s been a couple times where we don’t go to bed until two in the morning, but we work it out.”

“You seem very confident about this.”

“Well, duh,” scoffs Merlin. “All couples fight. I’m sure all couples with newborns who hate to sleep definitely fight. Margarite – the lady who watches the kids twice a week – last time she came, I took a four-hour nap. Usually I go to the grocer’s or meet with the project manager for the camps we are building. Last Thursday, though, I canceled everything and slept. Arthur was so cross when he got home because he never naps.” 

“Sleep is important for good health.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “You missed Bea’s second birthday party, too, you know. I got the notice, though, about your donation.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re referring to.”

Merlin grins. “You’re a bad liar. Birthday Charities told me you donated loads of presents in Bea’s name.”

“Someone there ought to be terminated for violating anonymity.”

“I know all the kids’ charities,” Merlin says. “None of them are gonna keep secrets from me if it involves one of my kids. But I appreciate the gesture.”

Uther sighs and nods. “Tell me about Bea. Have you taken her to the stables yet?”

“She’s only two!”

“Yes, but riding is a family tradition. You get them comfortable around horses at a young age so they won’t be terrified when they do start riding.”

“Margarite is coming an extra day next week so I can take Bea. I heard they have a small pony she can ride on if she wants.”

Uther sits back in his chair and grins.

***

**TODAY**

Charlie and Bea are both sound asleep. Hunith is already in the guestroom, most likely reading before she turns in. Morgana has left as well as Lance and Gwen. Uther stands awkwardly at the door as though unsure of what to do.

“Your surrogate – Gwendolyn—”

“Guinevere,” Arthur corrects. “Gwen.”

“Yes. She’s, er, pregnant again—”

Arthur holds up a hand. “She’s trying to stay as anonymous as possible. She has barely left her house because by now everyone knows who she is and she gets overwhelmed with people asking her questions about her pregnancy. She doesn’t like answering questions about whether this one is hers or ours.”

“Oh. Merlin told me once that this would be it, the two you have. No more children.”

Arthur shrugs. “We’re happy with Charlie and Bea.”

“Yes, obviously.” Uther clears his throat. “I hear you have dinner every Sunday with Gwen and her husband.”

“And their daughter, yes. It’s an open invitation so sometimes Morgana pops in. Sometimes Hunith as well. The invitation is open to you as well.”

“Yes. Merlin invites me every Sunday.”

“Of course he does.”

“Well, then. Goodnight.”

Arthur watches as his father walks through the door and down the front steps. His car and driver await. Arthur wonders if the poor bloke has been waiting here the entire time. It’s only moments before the car has driven completely out of sight. Arthur closes the front door and locks it. He turns off the lights and walks up the stairs. He passes by Bea and Charlie’s rooms and goes to the room he shares with Merlin at the very end of the corridor.

Merlin retreated earlier, saying he wanted Arthur and Uther to have a few minutes alone to say goodnight. He’s sitting up in bed with his kindle, reading only lord knows what – probably a trashy romance novel. But as soon as the door clicks close, he tosses the kindle to the side and sits up on his knees.

“All right, tell me. I know you said before you weren’t angry with me, but I need reassurance.”

“I’m not angry. I never thought my father would ever come to our house. I didn’t think he’d ever meet our children.” Arthur starts to undress to ready himself for bed. “I’m exhausted, though. Emotionally drained. I had a long talk with Morgana about Leon, too. My father actually said the crown would grant permission for them to marry.”

Merlin grins. “I know.”

“What do you mean _you know_?” Arthur climbs into bed and fluffs his pillow before laying down. 

“Uther and I are BFFs now. I’m so glad I can come clean about everything. We’ve talked about your sister’s fucking romantic drama for over a year now. He’s known we’ve been happy for a while. He accepted that truth ages ago. And he wants the same for Morgana.”

“If you and him have been so close, what took him so long to come visit?”

“Fear. Your stubbornness. He was afraid he’d show up and you’d turn him away.”

“I would never.”

“You might have done. Years ago.”

Arthur sighs. “Maybe.”

Merlin crawls across to Arthur’s side of the bed. He sits on his thighs, his knees on either side of Arthur’s hips. “You’re the love of my life. I know you better than anyone else. And all these years you’ve only been ninety-nine percent happy, which means I could only be ninety-nine percent happy. Your father’s your missing one percent.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Of course I am. That’s why you love me.”

“I’ll love you even more when you take off those pants.”

Merlin smirks and gives him a salute. “Yes, sir!”

***

**ONE YEAR AGO**

Their shoes are caked in mud when they get back to the car, but all the cabins are completed. The main building is still under construction, but the outer structure is complete. The earth has been carved out for the swimming pool and the stables have been mostly constructed. Apparently, and Merlin didn’t realize this when going over the plans, there’s room at the far end of the stables with a sitting area, a bathroom, and two bunks. He remembers talking about employing someone fulltime to care for the horses, but that’s where it ends. He’s ecstatic that his project manager thought to include this in their equestrian area.

It’s going to be a busy weekend. Arthur insisted on coming with him to visit the site and Merlin is so glad he did. It’s more than he ever imagined possible. And then they have to rush home, shower and change, and then make it back to the hotel where Merlin once worked for Wishes. They’re hosting a fundraiser – black tie, of course – for the camp. They’ve already gotten enough funding for the build and the horses and all the small extras like tables and chairs and mattresses and bed linens and washers and dryers and, well, the list really is endless. But now they’re fundraising with the goal to acquire enough funds to employ their future camp staff for at least two years. They’ll have to fundraise each year to keep the camp going, but Merlin remains hopeful that this will be a resounding success.

They decide to shower together to save time and Arthur chastises him for being too handsy. Margarite agrees to babysit well into the night so they can stay at the fundraiser for as long as they need. They dress in black tuxes and _fuck_ Arthur looks absolutely delicious in a bowtie.

“I mean, it should be illegal.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows.

“Looking this good in a tux and at your age, too.”

“I’m not old!” Arthur snaps. “I’m still in my mid-thirties.”

“Oh. Are you quite sure? I must not be very good at math.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Come on. Let’s go. The driver’s waiting.”

They say goodnight to Beatrix who promises to be a good girl. Then they say goodnight to Charlie who hasn’t started talking yet, but spits out a bunch of babble that they’re hoping means he’s going to at least attempt to sleep at bedtime.

The hotel is decorated beautifully. It’s the first fundraiser that Merlin let someone else plan. His only stipulation was that Gwen’s catering business provide the food. Guests begin to arrive and Arthur and Merlin greet each of them just inside the doors. Leon nearly lost his mind trying to vet the guestlist and the entire waitstaff. 

“Even though you _think_ you’re not the prince anymore,” he had said, “England still calls you the Prince of Wales. You pay me to be your personal protection and yet you don’t want me to protect you. It’s like you want me to quit.”

Luckily Leon was able to clear the guestlist and all the staff in time for tonight. It’s a silent auction, but all the guests also have the opportunity to donate on their own. Merlin is taken aback by how many guests actually come to support them. He knows he’s married to Arthur Pendragon, but he also knows they’re trying to build something special here and he hopes the latter is why they all have come.

All the guests mingle and sit down and eat the wonderful food Gwen’s prepared. Merlin welcomes them, gives a speech about the charity, about knowing what it’s like to be a kid who’s sick and how isolating it can be. How important it can be to find others like them, to connect, to have understanding, to not feel so alone. He thanks everyone for coming and jokes, “Please leave tonight with empty wallets,” before exiting and going to sit at the table with Arthur. The food is delicious, of course, and they eat with the guests, courses coming out at a leisurely rate so everyone can continue to bid on the silent auction items. As soon as the waiters have dropped off towers of petit fours and biscuits at each of the tables, Arthur goes up to the stage at the front of the room. It’s the same stage where he sat on a fake throne next to a little girl named Madeleine.

“Good evening, everyone,” he says into the microphone. “I am humbled to see this room filled with so many guests. I’d introduce myself, but I have a feeling everyone knows exactly who I am.”

A low rumble of laughter fills the room. Merlin rolls his eyes. He hates when Arthur is charming. He stands in the back of the room, near the door to the kitchens, away from most of the guests.

“Seven years ago, I was trying to figure out what kind of prince I wanted to be. I had done a tour in the Royal Air Force, but I didn’t love it. I did a lot of random charity events, hoping to find something that sparked my interest. I felt really lost and a little empty. I came here once, to this very room, and did an event for a little girl with cancer. She wanted to be Cinderella for a night and luckily for her, I was available to pretend to be Prince Charming.

“The man who planned the event – I joked and called him a fairy godmother because he granted this girl’s wish. That was his job, to grant wishes. I was struct with how much care he put into each wish. He did it with grace and understanding, but also sadness. Sadness because he knew that many of these kids were experiencing wishes on their deathbeds and each of those happy wishes were often the last happy moments they ever had.

“When he left Wishes, he never stopped thinking about how he could do more. He started raising our children, but always working in the background towards something else. For the last few years he’s worked, tirelessly, in all the spare moments he’s had. _This_ is the thing he’s creating. This will be his legacy and he is doing it only for the betterment of the kids he wants to help.

“You know, a year ago we sat at our kitchen table and he told me he wanted to make this camp year-round. And I thought to myself, _holy shit, my husband’s lost his mind_.”

Laughter fills the room again. Gwen sneaks up next to Merlin and loops her arm through his. “God, I hate when he’s charming,” she whispers. He can only nod.

Arthur grins. “And then I listened to him. He wanted kids with any sort of difference or disability to be able to attend this camp, to meet other kids just like them, so they would not feel so alone. And then – then he says he wanted to make sure there was a week dedicated to siblings of kids with illnesses so that they could connect with one another and share their stories of what life is like for them. And I sit at that table and listen to him and I think how I have never met anyone as good as him, as genuine.

“I wanted to tell you all that because I don’t know how well most of you know him, or if you know him at all. I wanted to tell you about the man behind all of this, the charity he is building, to help ensure you that this money we have raised tonight will be absolutely cherished by each of the kids that will be touched by Merlin’s good heart.”

“He’s so gross,” Gwen says. “Gag.”

Merlin laughs. “Don’t be so wicked. He’s clearly madly in love with me.”

“Clearly.”

“The items we had for auction,” Arthur says, “raised one million, six-hundred thousand pounds.”

The ballroom erupts in applause.

“Holy shit,” Merlin whispers. “That’s _mad_. We only had a goal of one million for the entire night.”

“That’s because people love you,” Gwen says.

Arthur holds up a hand. “We had other donations tonight, including one George tells me was dropped off via messenger by a guest who sadly could not attend in person. Our other donations totaled – actually, before I tell you. Gwen? Where are you?”

“Right here!” Gwen shouts.

“Ah, hello. Oh good, you’re already with Merlin. You might need to hold him upright to keep him from fainting when I tell you the total.”

Merlin’s interest is piqued. Gwen pulls their linked arms even closer and grabs his hand tightly.

“In other donations we raised five million—”

Merlin doesn’t hear anything after that. He bursts into tears. Gwen throws her arms around his shoulders and pulls him tightly against her. 

Later, after everyone has left and the waitstaff is cleaning up, Merlin says to Gwen, “This never would have happened if it wasn’t for Arthur.”

“What d’you mean?” she asks.

“People gave all this money because of him. Because he’s—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Gwen says, holding up her hand. “Don’t give him any credit. You did all of this by yourself.”

“He’s helped me.”

“He’s supported you, but you – _you_ – have done all of it.” 

Merlin considers this as he watches Arthur help some of the servers stack dishes to take to the kitchen to clean. Morgana was amongst the guests and she walks over to say goodbye and congratulate him. Leon is right behind her, fooling absolutely no one when he says he wants to walk her safely to her car outside where her driver is waiting. 

Before he does so, he shakes Merlin’s hand and leans in next to his ear. “His Royal Highness is the anonymous donor. I was forbade to tell you.”

“By who?”

Leon shrugs. “Security folks talk to one another. Often the people we are paid to protect forget we are in the room when they say things or, you know, sign large cheques out of their personal accounts.”

“Wouldn’t Arthur have seen the cheque?” Merlin asks.

“I’m guessing someone else either wrote the check for him or George is clever enough to keep his mouth.”

“But you’re not clever enough.”

Leon scoffs. “No. I’ve kept _your_ secret, though.” He raises his eyebrows. Leon has always been very good about never letting Arthur know about any of Merlin’s meetings with Uther. “He clearly has had some sort of change of heart if he’s giving a literal fortune to your charity.”

Merlin nods. “Yeah.” He feels breathless. “Maybe he likes me after all.” He glances at Morgana and then back to Leon. “I think she’s waiting for a tumble in the coat closet before you walk her out.”

“I’d never do anything so crass.”

“Liar.”

***

Merlin and Arthur talk about asking Margarite to add additional days each week so Merlin focus more on the charity work, but when Charlie takes his first steps at only ten months old, Merlin realizes he still wants to be here for these moments. They compromise and add more days, but Merlin works from home, usually at the table in the kitchen instead of the room that is supposed to be his office, and Margarite is there to make sure the kids don’t stick anything in the electrical outlets. She prepares their lunches, but Merlin eats with them. Sometimes he’ll take a break to watch Mickey Mouse or play a game of hide and seek outside. It works well for them. He doesn’t get as much done as he would if he had an actual office to go to, but he enjoys being able to text Arthur photos he’s snapped on his phone throughout the day or tell him stories when he walks through the door. Sometimes Margarite helps with dinner, but she’s usually gone by the time Arthur gets home. Occasionally Merlin will have a string of conference calls with builders or project managers and she’ll have to take the kids to the park so Merlin can talk in peace.

He goes to see Uther to deliver the invitation to Charlie’s first birthday party and brings along a stack of photos. They haven’t spoken about the large donation and Merlin isn’t sure whether he should bring it up. Leon has started to accompany Merlin on almost all of his visits the last two years, although last time he had to wait nearly an hour for Leon to finish his official royal business with Morgana before they could head back home. 

“You’ve already sent me most of these photos to my phone,” Uther says, eyeing the prints.

“I thought there’d be egg and mayo.” Merlin looks through the stack of sandwich triangles. “Oh, they’re all at the bottom. I was wondering if I could blackmail you.”

Uther doesn’t even flinch or look up. “Into doing what exactly?”

“I won’t tell Arthur you donated to my fundraiser if you come to Charlie’s birthday party.” “You do realize that by telling me that I am going to have to terminate someone in my employ.”

“Who exactly? The person who wrote the cheque? The security guard in the room? The messenger who delivered it to the fundraiser? My accountant who manages all the funds? I will tell you right now, I’m not sacking anyone on my team and the crown cannot make me.”

Uther glances up at this. “You sound like Arthur did when he was twelve years old and trying to stand up to me. I do not think it is the right time to see Arthur. First birthdays are a big deal. I would never want to ruin it by forcing his hand. He may not wish to see me.”

“Urrrghhh,” Merlin groans. “You are quite possibly the most stubborn person on the fucking _planet_. You are Arthur are so much alike sometimes it hurts.”

“I see why he fancies you so much sometimes.”

“Everyone fancies me,” Merlin snaps, “I’m a nice guy.”

“Tell me about the camps. How much longer before you can open?”

“Hopefully in two summers. We’ll start with the summer since it’ll be most popular and we’ll start with a few specific camps that are all similar enough that we can keep the same staff.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Merlin says, waving a hand in the air as though it will help him explain it better, “your medical needs like cancer, diabetes, and so forth, can be handled by a basic medical team. All the kids will have to get releases from their primary doctors and we will have nurses and a doctor onsite all the time. Those kids can have regular camp counselors. However. Kids with developmental delays would need an entirely different staff. Not everyone knows how to help an autistic kid when he’s having a meltdown.”

“You are talking about having potentially several different sets of staff.”

“Possibly. Or extensive training. It’s a problem I haven’t quite solved yet. I have some meetings next week with some different experts so I can even find out what all these kids might even need from a camp.”

Uther sighs. “I imagine a lot of my money will continue to disappear while you do this endeavor.”

“I would never ask—”

“As long as we keep it between us.”

Merlin shakes his head. “As soon as Arthur finds out I’ve been visiting, I’ll have to tell him. I won’t continue to keep secrets from him. Besides, I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t want handouts from the crown simply because I’m fucking the prince.”

Uther blinks very slowly as though bracing himself. “It is truly a wonder how I’ve allowed you to think you can simply speak any way you wish with me. Wherever did I go wrong?”

“When you didn’t show up to the wedding. That’s about where I stopped caring what you thought about me.” Merlin shrugs. 

“I do not throw my money away,” Uther says, ignoring everything Merlin just said. “If I did not think it was a worthy cause, I would have kept my pockets buttoned.”

“Good to know.” Merlin shoves another egg and mayo sandwich in his mouth. He checks his phone. He sends a quick text to Leon, reminding him not to be late. “I have somewhere to be, so you got me for another ten minutes. What do you want to know?”

Uther glances back at the photos. “Everything. Is Beatrix still obsessed with Minnie Mouse?”

***

At Charlie’s firth birthday, Merlin keeps checking his phone. He hopes Uther has changed his mind and will finally make an appearance. Unfortunately, it doesn’t happen. Merlin is disappointed but he has to suffer through it so that no one catches on. They’ve had birthday parties and anniversary parties before, endless Sunday dinners, none of which Uther showed up to. Merlin just thought – hoped – that he had finally made enough of a difference after all these years that he would finally show up and begin to mend things with Arthur.

They let Charlie absolutely destroy a giant piece of cake and, as with all their other parties, there’s a large pile of presents ready to be donated to Birthday Charities. It’s not a huge party, but enough friends and family are there to make Merlin feel truly loved, even though there’s one guest missing.

Merlin doesn’t miss the way Leon grabs Morgana’s hand and gets into the back of her car with her as her driver takes her back towards Kensington. Gwen, Lance, and Vivi are the only guests left – although Merlin hardly thinks of them as guests.

Arthur cleans the kitchen as Gwen sits on a bar stool on the other side of the large island. They all have glasses of wine and Vivi is sleeping on the sofa in the next room as the television softly plays an episode of something off the Disney channel.

“I’m a little tipsy,” Merlin says, “just to warn you.”

“Oh, god,” Gwen moans. 

Merlin takes both her hands in his. “Gwen—”

“Don’t.”

Merlin shakes his head. “Gwen. I don’t deserve you. You’re my best friend—”

“I swear to god if you make me cry I’m going to punch you.”

“You’re my best friend,” he says again, “and you’re a part of our family. You’ve literally given me my children. Before Arthur, I didn’t know if I’d ever have any. I used to want, like, a million kids. I don’t know why. I don’t like talking about having cancer, but I remember thinking at one point … if I died … there’d be nothing of me. Most of my friends stopped coming around after I’d be sick for so long – it’s kind of a drag being around the sick kid – and I wasn’t old enough for kids of my own. I didn’t have a boyfriend. I had my mom and my uncle. If I died, there would’ve been nothing.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s selfish, but that’s when I started thinking about having kids. You made that happen for me – for us. And I love you.”

“I fucking hate you,” Gwen says, sniffling. She removes one of her hands from Merlin’s so she can wipe her eyes. “I didn’t really think I wanted kids and then we had Vivi and she’s the coolest kid ever – cooler than Bea, and, no, I won’t take it back. I stand by my statement. We love her.”

“Immensely,” Lance adds, placing a hand on Gwen’s shoulder.

“But if we hadn’t gotten pregnant by accident, I don’t know if we would’ve ever had kids.”

Merlin has no idea where she’s going with this. He must have a blank expression because she sighs and continues.

“To be a surrogate, you have to have one healthy pregnancy,” Gwen says. “Sometimes I think … I think that we had Vivi so that we could give you Bea and Charlie. And I say ‘we’ because Lance was there, too. Rubbing my back, getting me ice cream when I craved it. Tying my shoes when I was too big to bend down. Vivi completes our family, but I think she’s here so that I can help you complete yours.”

“I didn’t think you believed in fate,” Arthur says.

“I don’t as a general rule,” Gwen agrees, “but sometimes things happen for a reason.”

“I think it’s a lovely thought,” Merlin says. “And it makes me feel even closer to Vivi.”

“Remember that when it’s time for university. I’ll let you pay her tuition bill.”

Merlin grins. “I really hope you let us.”

It’s close to midnight when Lance scoops Vivi off the sofa and they drive back to their own house not too far down the lane. They moved very recently to be closer to them because their lives are so entwined with one another’s. He sees it in Gwen’s eyes every time she looks at Charlie and Bea. It’s this intense fondness, almost the same way she looks at Vivi – almost as much love. He knows they never would have had the same special bond if they’d used a surrogate from an agency. When they finally fall into bed, Merlin can tell Arthur is a little restless.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Sometimes I see our life and wonder what I did to deserve all this.” He turns his head towards Merlin and smiles. “It’s surreal sometimes. You. The kids. This house. My job. As in … I have a job that isn’t being a figurehead of a literal country.”

“Figureheads are boring.”

Arthur snorts and looks back at the ceiling. “I sometimes wonder what our kids could do that would make me not talk to them for half a decade.”

“Nothing,” Merlin answers quickly. “Other than being serial killers and going to jail, I guess.”

“Even then, don’t you think we would visit them?”

“Probably. You know that, like, your dad being the way he is – that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. You’re good. You’re amazing.”

“I know that. Objectively. The nothing wrong with me part, not necessarily the good and amazing part.”

“Hmm,” Merlin hums. He turns on his side, facing Arthur. He reaches out and places his palm on Arthur’s bare chest; he hardly ever goes to sleep with a shirt on. He rubs circles into Arthur’s skin. Scooting closer, he bends down and kisses the hollow of Arthur’s throat. “I love you,” he says. “I love everything about our life.” He kisses just under Arthur’s ear.

“You don’t regret ever leaving Wishes?”

“No. I’m building something that will touch more lives now. I’m excited. Do you ever regret leaving the throne?” Another kiss, above one of Arthur’s nipples.

Arthur laughs and Merlin feels it against his lips. “Not even once,” he confirms. “I never thought I’d be this happy. I never would have been this happy if I’d stayed at Kensington and continued my royal duties.”

Merlin pulls up and looks Arthur in the eye. “God, we really do sound gross. No wonder Gwen rolls her eyes so much when we’re around her.”

“I love you.” Arthur says it softly, as though it might be a secret. Merlin swallows against a weird lump in his throat and says, “I love you, too.”

They take their time that night, making love. They sometimes rush through it, especially after a long day, hoping that the kids stay asleep and wanting to finish before they hear anyone cry awake. Tonight they take their chances, loving each other with hands and then mouths, and when Merlin comes, it’s sitting in Arthur’s lap, with Arthur buried deep inside him, kissing his mouth, whispering how beautiful he is, how happy their life is, how amazing everything feels. And yet he knows, as content as Arthur probably feels in this moment, it’s still only ninety-nine percent.

***

**TODAY**

Arthur wakes the next morning and blinks against the sunlight streaming into the room. He’d forgotten to pull the curtains all the way to the night before. He hears the kids before he sees them. Bea’s probably been up for a while, playing quietly in her room or reading one of her picture book. Whenever she hears Charlie wake up in the room next to hers, she always goes in and helps him climb out of his crib. Once that happens, they make so much noise that Arthur and Merlin usually have about thirty seconds warning before the two of them burst into their room and get into bed with them.

This morning is no different. 

Arthur reaches over the side of the bed and pulls Charlie up as Bea uses the bed linens like a rope and climbs onto the bed. She crawls over Arthur’s legs and settles in between the two of them, getting under the blankets. Charlie lays down next to her, his little legs kicking up and down. He puts two of his fingers in his mouth and sucks on them. Arthur lays back down and reaches over and links his hand with Merlin’s.

“What’s for breakfast?” Bea asks.

“Leftover cake,” Merlin mumbles, still clearly half-asleep.

“Yay!”

“Absolutely not,” Arthur says. “Oatmeal.”

“Gross.”

“Eggs?”

“Grosser.”

“Did you have a good birthday, sweet girl?” Arthur asks.

“Mmmmm hmmmmm,” Bea answers, drawing out the sounds. “But my, uh. Um. Your daddy. What’s his name?”

“Did he tell you to call him Grandpa?”

“Yes! Grandpa.”

It just occurs to Arthur that Bea’s never had a grandfather before. She has Hunith, who they call Gran, but no other grandparents. It hits him, right in the chest, just then.

“He said he’d see me again on Sunday.”

“Did he?”

Merlin cracks one eye open and smiles. “Guess we’ll have to get another chair for the table,” he says.

“We have eight chairs,” Arthur replies.

“We’ll need nine in another month when Gwen has the baby.”

“We have a highchair.”

“Highchairs only last a short time.” Merlin yawns. “You know that.” He closes his eyes again.

“No, no, don’t go back to sleep!” Arthur laughs. “It’s time to get up.”

“Should’ve thought this through more before I married a morning person,” Merlin grumbles.

Arthur looks at his kids. “Let’s go make Daddy some coffee, yeah? And we’ll see what there is to make for breakfast.”

Bea climbs to her feet in the middle of the bed. “Okay!”

Arthur gets up first and grabs a white t-shirt from a drawer before picking up Charlie and grabbing Bea’s hand to help her jump off the bed. “We have to make a stop first before we go downstairs.”

“Eww, when will Charlie stop using nappies?”

They walk down the hall towards Charlie’s bedroom.

“Oh, we have a while yet,” Arthur laughs. “Come on, we’ll do it lightning fast so we can get downstairs. You know we’ll never get Daddy up without coffee.” Arthur sets his son down on the changing table. “Did you know that when we first met, he didn’t even like coffee? He only drank it because Grandpa liked it and he was trying to make a good impression.”

“What’s good impression mean?”

“When you want someone to like you.”

“Why didn’t Grandpa like him?”

“Oh he did. He just didn’t know it yet.”

“Oh.” Bea reaches through the slats of Charlie’s crib and grabs his stuffed elephant and pulls him through the gap. She reaches up and hands it to him while Arthur fixes him up.

“You’re a good big sister.”

“I like being a big sister. I want to always be one.”

Arthur smiles and bends down to kiss the top of her head. “Stay sweet,” he says.

He picks Charlie back up and takes Bea’s hand as they walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. He counts the days until the next Sunday dinner and smiles. As he turns on cartoons for the kids and goes to measure out the beans for the coffeemaker, he thinks: It’s a weird feeling, being complete, but he kind of likes it.

***

**End.**

***


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